Purer than Snow
by ThirstyBoot
Summary: Modern Secondary School AU, rated M for later chapters, slow burn Malice. Alice just wants to survive her senior year. Mirana wants to make sure nothing tarnishes her perfect reputation. Neither are prepared for the other, and the chain of events that follows will lead to something much bigger than both of them.
1. Move-In Day

**1**

Underland Academy isn't too terrible. It's certainly an improvement from the last school, an entirely different world from the strict Catholic institution that expelled her for adding two Jabberwockies to the mural of Noah's arc.

As she's a senior, she only has one other roommate to share with. The dorm is a decent size, the standard two beds, dressers, and end tables made of ash wood, simple custard white walls and dark crushed rose colored carpet. Only one side of the dorm is decorated, the bed wrapped in white, fluffy sheets and topped off with faux fur white pillows. It appears as if it had snowed indoors on one side of the room, there's so much white. At least her roommate appears neat, and she only considers herself moderately messy.

Since this is a day set aside to help students move back in, known as Ostium, most students leave Alice Kingsleigh alone to settle in and establish herself in her new dorm.

 _Most of them._

One of the boys had decided to follow her around like a… well, like a cat, really. He's tiny, and his hair is powder blue, the same color as his large, inquisitive eyes, cut in a mid fade with messy curls on top. He wears a gray sweater with more blue stripes in the same shade, black jeans, and sneakers. His black lip ring flashes every time he smiles at her, which looks more like a smirk, which is often. Alice normally wouldn't have minded him, but he has yet to say a word to her, and he's done nothing but pad across her room on all fours. She hasn't even met her roommate yet, and he can't possibly be it.

After throwing another shirt into the dresser she gives up on trying to ignore him. "Can I help you?" she asks.

The boy only smirks at her again and leaps on top of her empty desk. Good thing she hasn't set anything on it yet.

"Look, I don't really mind you being in my room, but I'd like to at least know your name."

The boy stops and starts gesturing at her. It takes Alice a moment to realize that he's using sign language.

"Oh, sorry, I don't know how to sign."

He frowns, then pulls his phone out and types something.

"Chess." the automated voice says.

Alice eases up a little. At least knowing his name brings some comfort. "Hello, Chess. I'm Alice." She pulls out some light blue bedsheets and covers her bed, tucking and folding where need be.

He begins to type something else, only to be startled by someone barging into her room. He leaps down from her desk and darts under her bed immediately just before the door is wrenched open.

Her second intruder of the day is a stark contrast to the first. His hair is bright orange and wild and puffy, no rhyme or reason to it whatsoever. His eyes, one gold and one green, are frantic and dark, searching around her room while his long fingers fiddle with his dark blue bowtie. He wears a green collared shirt with so many pink swirls Alice gets a little dizzy just looking at it. The only normal components are his jeans and his shoes, which are slightly a bit too large for his feet.

"Whaur is he? whaur is 'at sneaky, connivin' little-" Spying something, he darts for the bed and reaches for it. "Ha! Thaur ye ur, ye bampot moggie!" He yanks Chess out from beneath the bed with surprising force for his long, skinny frame. "Gie it haur!"

Chess pouts but reaches underneath his sweater anyway and produces a smashed down reddish brown top hat tied around the middle with a pale pink sash. The boy snatches it back and pops it out before setting it on his head, smashing his hair down a little so only the sides stick out. His eyes brighten and calm and a satisfied smile lights his face. He turns back to Chess.

"Aam warnin' ye," he says. "Keep yer mucky paws aff mah hat." Chess merely bats at his leg in response as he stands. His voice changes, the Scottish accent disappearing altogether and shifts into a normal voice, this one much calmer with a slight trace of a lisp. "Hallo, sorry about that. I don't believe we've met." He extends his hand. "I'm Tarrant, Tarrant Hightopp."

Alice shakes it, a little bewildered. "Alice Kingsleigh. It's very nice to meet you." She peers down at Chess. "Both of you."

Chess gives her a shy smile that still manages to hold some mischief and scampers off.

Tarrant examines her room, pacing the length of it. "You're new, aren't you?"

Alice puts away a pair of socks. "What gave it away?"

"Oh, the open suitcase, your appearance, the empty bookshelf…"

Alice raises an eyebrow. "My appearance?"

"Most girls here don't dress so… masculine."

Alice glances down at her outfit. Heavy faded jean jacket, Bowie t-shirt, jeans and some Converse. She can't see anything that blatantly says 'male'. She pulls out her blanket and spreads it over the sheets, not sure of what to say to that.

"Not that there's anything wrong with that, of course." Tarrant recovers. "It's a nice change, actually."

"T-tarrant, you s-shouldn't b-be in the g-girl's d-dorms!"

Lovely, another visitor. It's another boy, this one with white hair styled into a slicked back side-part. He's small, scrawny, and shaky, tiny black eyes staring from behind massive, round, gold glasses. In one hand he clutches a pocketwatch, the other a small, brown cloth bag. He's dressed in a lavender button down and jeans as well as a pair of brown Oxfords. He's gritting his teeth, revealing two buck front choppers.

Tarrant merely laughs at him. "Neither should you, McTwisp. I was just welcoming our new arrival."

"T-that's M-mirana's j-job and you kn-know it!"

"Well, Mirana isn't here, now is she?" Tarrant grins. "Calm down, not everyone needs to take a side."

"Y-yes they d-do!" McTwisp insists, growing flustered. "Es-s-specially n-now."

Tarrant waves him off. "Let me deal with Mirana if she gets here today. Don't you have better things to do than patrol the halls while everyone else is outside?"

McTwisp glares at him but turns on his heel and walks off nonetheless.

Alice shoves her suitcase underneath her bed, finally almost unpacked. She can attend to her toiletries later. She sits down, feeling a little overwhelmed by so many new faces. "No one else is coming, right?"

Tarrant plops down beside her. "I don't believe so." he says. "Mirana won't try to sway you until tomorrow, at the first break, so you won't see anyone else but your roommate, whenever she decides to get here." He wiggles a little to get comfortable. "Do you even know who you're staying with, by the way?"

"Mirana."

Tarrant makes a strained hissing sound.

Alice is confused. "What's wrong with Mirana?"

"Oh, there's nothing wrong with Mirana as a person." he says, lying back on her bed. "It's really only what she believes in, and that ridiculous rivalry with her sister, Iracebeth, she's got going on."

Alice's interest is peaked. "Tell me more." she says.

"I suppose I can. You'd better hear this from an unbiased source. Some call her the White Queen…"

* * *

"So Mirana and Iracebeth's parents founded this school and they're both fighting for control of it, even though Iracebeth is technically the eldest, in some glorified popularity contest that all ends when prom court is announced."

"Essentially, yes." Tarrant grimaces. "And you don't want to be caught up in the middle of it. There are very few of us that are actually unbiased, and tensions are high this year since they're both graduating. Whoever wins the war becomes the Queen of Underland Academy and gains a special scholarship. It seems like a pointless title, really, since no one really cares about it except for their friends, if you can even call them that. If you ask me, though honestly no one really does anymore, it just sounds like a petty rivalry for their parents' love."

They walk past the Founder's statue surrounded by red and white roses for about the tenth time since starting their stroll along the curved walkways. All around them it's Aperio, which essentially means that it's dedicated time for students to catch up or get to know one another. The tall, white lanterns are lit, illuminating the vibrant green grass everyone is either sitting, rolling, or lying on. No one really pays them any mind at the moment, wrapped up in conversations of their own.

Alice nods, understanding a little better now. "And whose side are you on?"

"Myself?" Tarrant pauses. "I suppose I'm leaning more towards Mirana. She seems to be the lesser of two evils. Though you can't let her influence your decision, you must understand. She has a… a habit, I shall say, of making people fall in love with her to gain their allegiance. Not in a romantic sense, of course, that would be a mess, but a love of loyalty."

"And I'm meant to room with her."

"Yes. Good luck with that."

"That's it? Good luck? Haven't you got any advice?"

Tarrant laughs. "If she starts talking politics, change the discussion. Or ignore her. She'll lose interest if you're unresponsive. That's how I got her to leave me alone."

"Hi, Tarrant!" a set of cheerful voices call from behind. "And strange lady!"

Alice turns.

Standing before her is a set of two chubby bald twin boys, in black and white striped t-shirts and red pants. They both smile at her at the exact same time and bow, which Alice finds a little odd, but then again she did witness the essence of a cat trapped in a boy's body a few moments ago.

"Hello." she says, bowing back, unsure if this is an appropriate gesture or not. "Who are you two?"

"Timmy —" says one.

"And Tommy —" says the other.

"Dee." they say together.

"We're freshmen —"

"But we're really smart."

"Really —"

"Really — "

"Smart!"

There's a brief little pause, and then:

"Say, you haven't told us your name." Timmy says.

"Alice, Alice Kingsleigh."

"Pleasure to meet you Alice." they say together. "And good to see you Tarrant." And just as quickly as they approached, they're gone. Alice gives a little sigh of relief.

"You were going to meet them anyway." Tarrant explains as they continue their walk. "They make it their business to know everybody; they like friends."

"Do they have a stance?"

"No, they're undecided as well. Their logic is that if you choose a side, you cut your friends in half. I quite like it, personally."

"Hmm." Alice keeps walking, enjoying the night air. "I quite like _you_. I suppose that makes us friends?"

Tarrant laughs. "I quite like _you_ too, so yes, I do suppose that makes us friends." He gets an idea and claps his hands excitedly. "Oh, that means I must introduce you to the others!"

"Others?" Alice freezes internally. She doesn't think she can handle seeing any other new faces, not today, if they're all as strange as Chess and the Dee twins.

"Oh, yes! Mally and Thackery! They'll like you, I'm sure, wait 'til you see —"

Alice stops him. "Maybe not today, Tarrant."

He frowns. "Why?"

"I'm tired, and I'd like to rest before seeing anyone new." Tarrant merely blinks. Alice tries again. "I need to recharge?"

Tarrant softens. "Oh! Of course, of course! Let me walk you back to your dorm."

The walk back takes up the rest of Aperio. Everyone else must be making their way back to the dormitories by now. Tarrant stops in the hallway that divides the girls and the boys.

"This is where I leave. Don't want that prat McTwisp to try writing me a citation again or something. I have no idea who shoved that stick up his arse, but I pray for the day it comes out."

Alice smiles. "Thank you. I'm glad we met."

Tarrant smiles back. "And I as well. Good night, Alice."

"Good night, Tarrant."

They both go to their respective dormitories, happy with the day's events.

As soon as Alice opens the door she doesn't bother changing for the night. She switches off the lights and flops onto her bed, exhausted. Sleep sounds so good right now. She lets the weight of the day roll off her body and into an unknown abyss, feeling lighter already. Maybe it won't be so bad here.

* * *

Spoken, er, thought, too soon. Someone is shaking her gently but enough to wake her up. Alice slowly opens her eyes to find herself face to face with a blurry figure smiling down at her with bright, white teeth.

"Hi."

"Aaaaagh!"

Alice screams and scrambles backwards, her back smacking the headboard in her frantic panic.

"Hey, hey, shhhhh." the figure says with a soft, breathy voice, covering her mouth with smooth, slender fingers. "It's all right." Alice continues to stare at her with wide eyes, not at all convinced that anything is "all right". The figure straightens up. "I'm sorry. I just couldn't wait until tomorrow morning to meet you." The figure's voice is practically glittering with excitement. The hand is removed from her lips. "Here, I'll put on the lights."

The lights flicker on, and Alice is finally able to get a better look at her intruder, who turns around and smiles at her.

Nothing could have prepared Alice for this.

The first thing she notices about her is that she is tall, far taller than Alice herself. She has to have at least have four inches on her. The second is that she is wearing a ridiculous amount of white. She has on a short white dress, a white cardigan, a pearl necklace, and white furry boots. Her hair is long and cream colored, with the faintest touch of blonde, and appears impossibly soft. Alice feels a sudden urge to run her fingers through it. Her lips, unlike the rest of her porcelain skin, are dark roses, full and perfectly shaped. Her bright smile lights up warm, dark brown eyes that stare at her with an almost childlike curiosity, sweet and innocent. Something within them seemed to tug at her heart, wanting to capture it as her own, just as Tarrant had said. Oh, no.

"Let's try this again." she says, seemingly unaware of the effect she's had on Alice. "Hello, I'm Mirana Marmoreal Underland." Every part of her name is punctuated and precise, rolling off her tongue like a river.

Alice wants to say 'I know', —because who else could she possibly be?— but simply stretches her legs out again, unbunching herself from her defensive position. "Alice."

She pulls back the covers again, suddenly feeling very awkward. Maybe it's the exhaustion or the purity of her beauty, but she is suddenly feeling very drawn to Mirana right now, as if by a magnet, and she can't have that happen, not until she's had time to make a decision for herself about all of this new information. She kicks off her shoes and peels her socks off, only realizing now that she'd forgotten to do that earlier.

"Well, we've met. Good night." She doesn't trust herself to say much else and turns on her side so her body faces the wall.

"Oh, that's right, you must be tired." Mirana sounds disappointed, and Alice nearly speaks again to appease her, but resists the urge. How is she having this much of an effect on her already? They've barely spoken and Alice is nearly in the palm of her hand. Mirana continues. "Well, we'll have plenty of time to chat tomorrow." Alice doesn't respond, keeping her mouth clamped firmly shut. "Oh. Good night then, Alice."

Alice burrows underneath the covers. This is dangerous. Tarrant had already warned her about taking sides. It's already going to be difficult enough being roommates with Mirana. She couldn't start falling for her and further complicate things. Besides, she doesn't even know a thing about her beyond what Tarrant had told her earlier. She snuggles deeper into the covers as the lights are turned off once again.

Tarrant's voice echoes in her thoughts: _Don't get involved_.

That might prove to be difficult.


	2. Almost Alice

**2**

A chime from her cell phone wakes Alice from her sleep, notifying her of a new email. She makes a mental note to put it on silent in the mornings. She rolls over, and after fumbling around for it for a solid minute, grabs it off the nightstand. She switches the ringer off and opens her new school email.

From: Tarrant Hightopp

To: Alice Kingsleigh

 **Hallo!**

Today at 7:33 AM

I just realized I don't have your number.

Alice laughs softly to herself and enters it into her reply, along with:

 _It took you a day to realize that?_

She receives a text notification shortly after.

 _Yes._

And then another.

 _What classes do you have? We might share a few._

Alice steps out of bed, careful not to wake Mirana, and pulls the rumpled paper off of her desk. After taking a photo and sending it to Tarrant, she supposes she should start getting ready for the day. Classes start in less than thirty minutes. She's surprised that Mirana isn't awake already, but also a little relieved. She picks out a grey t-shirt and jeans from her dresser. Simple and comfortable.

Her phone flashes with another notification. She slides it open.

 _Tarrant: We've only got two classes together :o(_

 _Alice: Which ones?_

 _Tarrant: History and Religious Studies_

 _Alice: Well, at least you can keep me awake through that last one._

 _Alice: I've got to get ready. Talk to you at breakfast?_

 _Tarrant: Okay!_

Alice sets her phone aside and grabs a towel for the shower along with her bundle of clothes. When she comes out again, dressed with her hair wrapped up in a towel, she finds Mirana changing and reflexively averts her eyes. The Catholic school girls Alice knew were very touchy about what they allowed to be seen, despite being the same gender. Seeing as this is her only point of reference, it's only natural that she looks away.

She hears Mirana giggle. "Alice, it's all right." she says, her voice as light and breathy as ever. "I don't mind if you see."

Alice still refuses to look and begins to dry her hair vehemently to distract herself. She can't believe she's even thinking this, but she can't wait for class to start.

Mirana clearly doesn't take the hint, or at least chooses to ignore it. "I saw your schedule last night."

"Oh?"

"We share all our classes."

"Oh."

Well, this just complicates things further. It seems as if no matter how hard she tries to pull away, some force, God, perhaps, only pushes her closer. Maybe Tarrant would be able to help. Alice shoulders her backpack.

"Do you have a favorite subject?"

Alice turns and nearly jumps, finding Mirana standing right behind her, now fully dressed in yet another white outfit: a turtleneck and a flowy skirt. Alice wonders for a moment if Mirana owns any other colors, then dismisses the thought as irrelevant. She composes herself mentally before answering. "Art." She moves past her, grabbing her phone on her way to the door.

"Oh, that's lovely!" Seeing Alice nearly out the door, she adds, "I'll see you at breakfast, then?"

"Sure." Alice mumbles, shutting the door behind her. She opens her messages and taps something out to Tarrant.

 _Alice: Please tell me you're already there._

 _Tarrant: Yes._

 _Tarrant: Mirana trying to sway you already?_

 _Alice: Not yet, but I get the feeling she's warming up to it._

Alice rounds a corner and descends down the stairs, makes to go left, then remembers the dining hall, called the Cibus, is to the right, and corrects her direction.

* * *

The Cibus is enormous. Dozens of long, golden tables covered with red runners trimmed in white take up the center of the hall, red and white vases of roses in the middle of each one, matching gold benches set on opposing sides. Alabaster ceramic tile patterned with scarlet diamonds spread across the floor, the walls massive blocks of white marble broken apart with enormous windows trimmed in crimson, giving an excellent view of the grounds outside. On a raised platform of the same tile is a separate section of tables and chairs, for the teachers, Alice can assume. There are seven diamond chandeliers, three on each opposing side and one large one in the center. The cafeteria, called the Cicero, must be somewhere separate. Alice decides, find Tarrant, food later.

Luckily Tarrant flags her down, grinning, though he would have been impossible to miss with that massive hat on. Alice eagerly makes her way towards him, slipping through other students trying to find their places. She seats herself beside him, settling herself on his left.

"Ah, Alice!" he says happily. "We were wondering when you were going to show up."

"We?"

"Us, love." says a voice to Tarrant's right.

Alice looks past him to find a tiny, mousy looking girl with relatively plain features wearing a red checkered dress and little black flats. Her sandy hair is thin and wispy, framing her face like a cloud, curling outwards. Black eyes burn with an excited, fiery passion, like sparking coals. Beside her is a taller boy, almost as tall as Tarrant, with greyish brown hair in a wavy shag, caramel colored eyes weighed down with exhaustion and a wide jaw. A white piece of plastic is wrapped around one of his ears — a hearing aid. He wears a yellow flannel and ripped jeans, and Alice can barely see that he's only wearing socks on his feet. He notices her looking and smiles.

"HALLO!" he bellows.

The girl scolds him. "Thackery, not so loud!"

His expression turns bashful. "Oops. Sorry." It's a whisper, but it's still fairly loud for the intended volume.

Tarrant cuts into his stack of pancakes. "Well, now you know Thackery, and this is —"

"I can introduce myself, thank you very much." the mousy girl says, interrupting him. She beams at Alice. "Hallo, love, my name's Maliumpkin, but I'd rather you call me Mally."

"It's nice to meet you both." Alice says.

"Bacon." Thackery says happily, looking fondly at his food as he stabs a strip of meat with his fork.

"Thackery's a bit off the wall." Tarrant explains. "Don't be alarmed by anything he says, half the time we can't understand him either. He's partially deaf in one ear as well, that's why he gets loud sometimes. It doesn't help that his aid's absolute rubbish."

"So how'd you end up comin' here?" Mally asks.

Alice is about to respond when she feels soft fabric brush against her hand and turns to find Mirana settling down beside her, her plate practically empty save for a few pieces of fruit.

"Hello Tarrant, Thackery, Mally," she says breezily. She bestows a radiant smile upon Alice. "And Alice. How are you this morning?"

"STOATIN!"

"Thackery!"

"Sorry."

Mally pats his arm. "It's early love, we forgive you."

"Alice?" Mirana looks at her expectantly.

"Fine, thank you." Alice mutters. She can't help but think Mirana's trying to endear herself to her, even now.

Tarrant rescues her from further conversation. "Alice, you haven't gotten anything to eat yet!" he exclaims, leaping from his seat. He tugs her upright. "Come on, I'll show you all the best things!" With that, he pulls her through the tables towards the Cicero.

* * *

Tarrant grabs a tray for her. The line has died down considerably since the morning rush, so getting food from the buffet line is considerably easier. He shoves it into her hands and starts grabbing a few utensils. "You know, when I said 'don't let her sway you', I didn't mean you had to be a dobber about it."

Alice takes the utensils from him and grabs a plate. "Dobber?"

"A git." He grabs a paper cup and sets that on her tray as well. "You _can_ be friends with someone without getting involved in their business, you know."

Alice peels a cheese omelette off of the stack. "How so?" She reaches for the spoon dipped in the blueberries.

"You just enjoy each other, that's all. Mirana and I are friends; I just refuse to become involved with her more… political activities. It disappoints her, but she knows how to respect that." Tarrant leans against the sink and scratches at a piece of dry food stuck to the counter. "I wanted you to make your own decision, because sometimes Mirana makes decisions for others without meaning to. It's not exactly something she can control, you know. It's just her way with people."

Alice fills her cup with coffee. "You said there were two sides." She grabs the bottle of half and half and pours a little before stirring. "What about Iracebeth?"

"STAYNE!"

"Speak of the Devil and she shall appear." Tarrant mutters under his breath. "Come on, let's get back to the table before she gets in here with that louse of a boyfriend of hers."

It's too late. Two people stomp in, and Alice is immediately assaulted with a storm of red and black.

Iracebeth is easy to identify. Her hair is piled on top of her large head in cherry colored curls, almost appearing as if she is wearing a bush of roses. Her eyes, twin coals, are painted a sparkling dark blue around the black orbs, her face powdered over and over again, giving her an unnecessarily pasty complexion. She wears a red and black plaid dress trimmed with black lace as well as a pair of black thick heeled boots and two sets of black bracelets on both arms.

Stayne appears at her side instantly. He's got long, shaggy black hair, one eye heavily done up with eyeliner while the other is covered with a red, heart-shaped eye patch, two angry pink lines running through at the top as well as one stretching towards the bottom near his jaw. He wears a heavy leather jacket covered in band patches, shredded black jeans, and combat boots. His hands are gloved with the fingers missing, one of them holding Iracebeth's.

A goth power couple if Alice has ever seen one.

Iracebeth's eyes lock on Alice. "Who's this?" Her voice is nasal, a stark contrast to her sister's airiness. "I've never seen you before, and I know _everybody_."

Stayne gives her a menacing glare, as if to hasten Alice's response. It doesn't make a difference anyway, because Tarrant answers for her.

"She's new, Iracebeth."

"Quiet, Hatter." Iracebeth snaps. "Let her speak for herself." She turns back to Alice. "I ask you again, who are you?"

Alice bites back a stream of insults at a look from Tarrant. "Alice Kingsleigh."

"And have you chosen your alliance?"

She stands her ground. "I'm not getting involved."

Iracebeth purses her lips and looks Alice up and down. "We'll see about that. You may leave."

Tarrant leads her away. "As if we needed your permission." he mutters.

Stayne growls. "What did you say, Hatter?" he says, his voice rough and gravelly.

Tarrant plasters on a smile. "Nothing, your Majesties." He gives an exaggerated bow before leaving with Alice.

Once they're safely out in the hall, Alice asks, "What was that all about?"

"What?"

"Hatter. Why do they call you that?"

"Oh! I make hats for a living, and Iracebeth's parents are two of my best customers. They're wonderful people." He scowls. "Though how they could have produced someone so nasty is beyond me." He sits down and Alice follows suit.

"Please don't talk about my sister that way." Mirana says, dabbing at her face with a napkin, though Alice can't see any offending stain. "She can't help the way she is."

"I don't agree, but you know her best, I suppose." Tarrant says. His hat suddenly disappears, and a certain blue haired fellow scampers off with it. Tarrant leaps up from the table, eyes blazing. "Ye blasted moggie! Gie back haur!"

He races off after Chess, who's grinning from ear to ear despite being chased around the dining hall. Some students watch and chuckle, others merely shake their heads. Judging from the reactions, this must be a regular activity. Alice returns to her food, smiling to herself. Those two really are a funny pair. She'll have to ask Chess why he keeps snatching Tarrant's hat all the time, when Tarrant could simply make him one.

* * *

The first class of the day is Astronomy. The classroom is simple enough, a large room with long, tall black tables and dark wooden stools. The lighting is minimal except for a few candles set into a black ring hanging in the center of the room. The windows are covered with maroon curtains drawn tightly shut, and the floor is carpeted in the same material. The walls are covered with various charts that are far too complicated for Alice to understand at the moment, though she assumes she will later on in the year. A projector screen covers the white board, blank for the time being.

"ALICE! OWER HAUR!"

Alice spots Thackery sitting right up front, diagonal from the professor's desk. She smiles at him and presses a finger to her lips to remind him to be quieter before moving to sit beside him. She notices Mirana sitting across from her with McTwisp, who merely gives her a curt nod. Mirana doesn't notice her presence and continues to unpack her things.

"Mr. Maras, please refrain from bellowing to your friends in my classroom." a rich, tenor voice says with nothing short of condescension.

The professor strides into the room, head held high. His light brown hair is pulled up into a high pompadour, and his stern emerald eyes study his students behind a pair of brass spectacles. His lips are thin and pressed into a firm line, unsmiling. He's dressed in a navy blue blazer, a crisp white dress shirt, and a black tie. Everything about him is pressed and clean, his voice matching perfectly.

"Good morning, students." he continues. "My name is Professor Alden. Please take out your textbooks and turn to page three-hundred and ninety-four; have a sheet of paper or a notebook and a writing utensil to record your notes."

Alice takes out her Astronomy textbook, a hefty black volume, and drops it onto the table without thinking with an audible _thud_.

Professor Alden glares at her. "And who are you?"

Alice swallows. Professor Alden suddenly made her feel very unsure of herself, and for a moment she blanks. "I'm Alice Kingsleigh." she says, a bit hesitantly.

Professor Alden scoffs. "No, you're not."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You're not Alice Kingsleigh."

"Yes, I am."

"No, you're not."

"But I am!"

Professor Alden leers at her. "Then say it like you mean it."

Alice scowls. He's successfully irritated her and he knows it. "I'm Alice Kingsleigh." she says, firmer and sounding much more sure of herself now that he's successfully irritated her.

The professor turns on his heel and walks toward his desk. "That's better. Now, you're almost Alice." He picks up his teacher's edition and thumbs to the page he's looking for. "Now, you should be looking at an index…"

Alice quietly fumes in her seat. First he accuses her of not being Alice at all, and then he tells her that she's almost Alice. What is that even supposed to mean?


	3. The Art of Subtlety

**3**

After her Astronomy teacher's humiliating comments, the rest of the day is relatively uneventful, until Alice reaches her final class of the day, Art. It's the only one she's really been looking forward to.

This classroom is the only one that doesn't appear as formal as the others. It's fairly small and colorful, the walls splattered with a rainbow of paint splotches, easels propped up with metal stools topped with pillows, stained glass windows letting in colorful lights. There are two open wooden closets: one containing a large variety of paint bottles and the other storing paint brushes, easels, canvas, and other tools of the trade. The floor may have been smooth, off-white tile at one point, but there's so much paint on the floor that the white is barely visible. There's a small desk in the corner, the cleanest surface in the room, and seated behind it is a tall, lean woman with wild pink hair and a paint splattered apron holding a few brushes.

She takes the center of the room and raps her knuckles on one of the uncovered metal stools.

"Hello, all. My name is Professor Flora, and I'd like you all to have a seat anywhere on the floor before we begin."

Alice feels a soft hand tug her down to plop her onto the floor. Chess grins at her, not at all apologetic for scaring her a little. She smiles back, interested to see what kind of art Chess would turn out. She notices Mirana hesitate before sitting down, gathering her skirt before folding her legs beneath her. As a tiny bit of blue paint gets on her leg, her eyes widen, as if she's dying a little inside. She grabs a cushion off a nearby stool to sit on. Alice fights back the urge to laugh.

Once everyone is seated, Professor Flora continues. "I'd like to get to know each of you better, and it has come to my understanding that most of your professors that haven't jumped right into their lesson plans have given you a questionnaire to fill out in lieu of talking with you."

Most of the students nod. Alice recalls her Religious Studies questionnaire with a grimace at how, well, religious the questions were, and then a smirk when she remembers Tarrant doodling some explicit pen scrawls all over his. There had been an obvious bias to Catholicism throughout as well as condemnation of any other branches of faith. While Alice does not have a problem with Catholicism, the class's outright discrimination against any other religion when it is meant to be a class that takes all of them into equal, unbiased consideration irks her to no end.

"I'll be doing no such thing." A sigh of relief from the class. "I want to get to know you through a language we all understand: art. I'd like each one of you to paint something that expresses who you are as an individual." She gestures to the closets. "Supplies are in these storage units. I'll be creating a piece myself. Use anything you need." The class stares blankly at her, waiting for permission. Professor Flora puts her hands on her hips. "Well, go on then!"

It's like she set off a bomb. The majority of the class dashes for the closets while Alice elects to hang back with Chess until the stampede subsides. Mirana goes to the sink, presumably to wash the paint off her leg. Alice waits a few more minutes before turning to Chess, realizing that Chess would be crushed in the crowd before he got anything.

"What do you need?" she asks him.

Chess thinks for a moment before pulling out his phone and typing quickly. An automated voice soon replies:

"Dark blue, grey, light blue, white, black, golden yellow, canvas, palette, water cup, paper towels."

There's a pause, then:

"Please."

Alice blinks. That's quite a long list, but she can understand. She gets up and moves toward the closet, already not as crowded as before. She returns with a bundle of paint tubes and brushes on one arm and the canvas and palette in the other. After following Chess to an empty easel and setting him up, Chess taps into his phone again.

"Thanks, Alice."

Alice smiles. "You're welcome."

She glances back over at the closets. She doesn't have the slightest idea as to what to paint that would accurately represent her. Not to mention, her options are probably growing more and more limited the longer she waits as the supplies run out.

An exasperated huff draws her out of her thoughts. Alice turns to find Mirana's features twisted into a frustrated expression as she stares at her canvas. The only color on her canvas is white.

Alice doesn't know why she expected anything else.

She sighs and goes to her. Mirana isn't going to get anywhere with white and only white, unless she decides to do an embossed piece, though from the looks of it she hasn't started that either.

"What, exactly, are you trying to create here?" she asks.

Mirana turns, the frustration draining away instantly. She seems delighted to see Alice taking an interest.

"I'm not sure what to do here, actually. I just chose the best color."

Alice's brow furrows. "You think white is the best color for a white canvas." she says slowly, making sure she's heard her right.

Mirana giggles. "Well, when you say it like that, I suppose it does sound a little silly." Alice resists the urge to facepalm at what may be the understatement of the century. It's evident that Mirana has never had any experience with painting in general. Mirana glances at her canvas again. "What do you propose I do?"

Alice shrugs. "I don't know you too well, and this is supposed to represent you. I can't represent you for you."

"True. But you can inspire."

Something about the way Mirana says that makes Alice flush. However, as she's at a loss for what to do for her own painting, she figures she might as well help Mirana to pass the time.

"What can I do?"

* * *

"No, not that way."

"Which way do I do it, then?"

"Here."

Alice reaches around Mirana and gently wraps her fingers around the hand holding the brush, dragging it in the opposite direction Mirana had been going and creating a smoother texture in the process.

They had decided on a white tiger cub suspended within the ocean, paw outstretched toward the viewer, as if reaching for something. Alice had been surprised at first, but then decided to let it go and agree to help her.

That's the plan, anyway. At this rate, Mirana will be lucky to have an ocean and a white silhouette ready by the end of class. Alice continues to guide Mirana's hand to create the fur. This is actually really nice. Soothing, really. She finds an easy rhythm and wraps her fingers a little tighter around Mirana's hand and wrist for better control and rests her chin on her shoulder to get a better view of the canvas. Mirana smells sweet, like vanilla bean. Alice finds that she would be quite content to stay in this pleasant position for a while, painting with her. Curious.

Mirana turns her head, a peaceful smile gracing her contrasting features. "I think I understand now, thank you."

"Oh." Alice steps back, snapping herself out of her daze. "All right then."

Mirana glances down, then back up again. "Alice, my hand."

"Oh!" Alice releases it, dropping her own hand to her side and stepping back. "Sorry."

She turns on her heel and walks away to check up on Chess. Anything to distract her from the sudden tightening in her stomach.

Chess is currently sitting on the floor, smearing paint all over the canvas with his fingers from what she can see as he leans over, cutting off her view. She walks around him and crouches down to get a better look.

What she expects to be a very childish, whimsical looking piece turns out to be extremely detailed and well blended. Curious. She would have pegged Chess for an abstract type. It's a foggy, misty morning scene, and against the serene background are black, distorted silhouettes that seem to be leaping about in a strange sort of dance. Chess is busily filling in the ground with his hands, blending until he creates a smooth texture. His fingers are covered in different colors, his sweater is splattered, and he's even managed to get some of the grey and yellow into his hair. Even his cheeks are smeared. He looks up at her and grins before going back to work. His broad smile is contagious, and Alice finds herself returning it.

Alice decides then that as long as everyone else is still working, she might as well try to get something done. She selects a small canvas, a water cup, some brushes, and a random color palette. She still doesn't have the slightest idea as to what she can do. She takes one of the empty easels and sets up before glancing at the clock. Twenty minutes left. She looks at the palette: red, blue, yellow, black, white.

The colors blend together in her mind, dancing in front of her, taunting.

She grabs a brush and starts painting.

* * *

It's a mess. It's a rushed, absolute mess, probably the most rushed painting she's ever done, but it'll do.

The sky is three different colors, blended seamlessly, transitioning from blue, to yellow, back to blue again, with scratches of clouds painted over. The ground is red fading into black, and sprouting from it is an ebony trunked tree blooming into vibrant red clusters.

And Alice has no idea what it's supposed to mean.

It's five minutes before class is due to end, and Professor Flora is already circling the room. She stops at each student, makes a few comments, then moves on to the next. Chess seems pleased with what she says to him and pads over to the sink, presumably to wash up. Alice takes a chance and glances at Mirana's canvas.

It's beautiful, in a strange way. It's obvious that there are two styles going on, Alice's whimsical ocean background is a stark contrast to Mirana's more fine-lined, precise cub, but they complement each other well. The result is better than she thought it'd be. There's an intensity behind the dark eyes of a creature so young, the paw stretching out desperately beyond the canvas. Professor Flora exchanges a few words with Mirana, and then Mirana points to Alice. Uncomfortable with the sudden attention, Alice looks away and starts busying herself with cleaning her brushes.

Professor Flora suddenly appears behind her. "I know that's not the best you can do."

Alice washes the paint off of the last brush, smoothing out the damp bristles. "I didn't have much time." she says, trying to conceal her embarrassment.

Professor Flora examines the painting and nods her approval. "All the same, it's a job well done. I was still able to gather what kind of person you are."

Alice glances over at her, curious. "And that is?"

"You are willing to help your friends at your own expense to distract yourself from your own wandering spirit." Professor Flora smiles at Alice's expression. "It's not a bad thing, dear, but you should think about putting yourself first once in a while. Maybe the right person will help you see that."

Alice is about to ask her what exactly she means by that, but she's already moving toward the center of the classroom.

"Leave your canvases here, please." Professor Flora says. "I'd like to display them so you can see your progress throughout the year. With that, you are dismissed as soon as your supplies are cleaned up. Remember, dinner is at 5:30; don't be late."

"Alice?" Mirana calls.

Alice turns to her. "Yes?"

"Will you walk with me a bit before free period?"

Remembering the tightening in her chest before, Alice is a little wary of being alone with Mirana. Then again, the tightening could have been early cramps.

Curiosity wins out.

"Sure."


	4. Girl of Your Dreams

**4**

Mirana has taken Alice back to the place with all the roses and the winding paths and the lush lawns. Something seems to be troubling her, as she's having trouble finding the words to express herself, fiddling with her fingers as they walk. It's a strange look for someone ordinarily so poised. They stop at the Founder's statue, and it is there that Mirana finally turns to Alice, hands clasped tightly together, nervousness written across her face.

"Why do you hate me, Alice?"

Alice's brow furrows, tuning Mirana out for a moment to register what's going on here. This is what she wants to talk about? This, of all things? Alice refocuses just in time to hear Mirana spiraling off into a tangent.

"...and I'm not sure exactly what I've done wrong, but…"

She's rambling, and for the first time it's making Alice feel truly guilty for the way she's been treating her. This has to stop. Tarrant is right, she can trust herself enough to make her own decisions. That doesn't mean they have to be friends, though. Not if she keeps making her feel like… this. Whatever _this_ is, exactly.

"Hey!" she says, stopping the rapid outpour of Mirana's babbling. "I don't hate you."

Mirana's lips part in surprise. "You don't?"

"No."

Mirana frowns. "Then why do you always make it a point to avoid and ignore me? I must have done something to warrant that."

"You haven't done anything." Alice sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose in a vain attempt to clear her head. "Tarrant told me about the little war you have going on with your sister, and he didn't want me to be influenced by you to choose a side."

"Tarrant told you to stay away from me?"

"No. I just wasn't sure if I could handle myself around you." Realizing what she's just said and what it must be implying, Alice hurries to remedy the statement. "Not in _that_ way, no! God, no! I just meant that Tarrant said that you're very influential, and you could possibly make my own decisions for me, and I can't bear the idea of that happening, and —" Alice stops herself abruptly. "And you're laughing at me." Alice groans inwardly. Of course this was going to happen, of course Mirana isn't going to take her seriously.

"I'm sorry!" Mirana says, still giggling. "It's just funny that you think _I_ could influence _you_."

That puts Alice on the defensive, though she's not sure why. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You just seem very set in your own ways, that's all." Mirana smiles. "I don't think I'd be able to change you even if I tried." Mirana lays a gentle hand on Alice's shoulder, which seems to burn from the contact, though it's not entirely unpleasant. What is wrong with her? This has got to stop. "I'm not going to try to sway you, I promise."

Alice steps back, letting Mirana's hand fall from her shoulder. The burning sensation stops. Where did it come from? "Thank you." Her phone buzzes. "Excuse me."

 _Tarrant: whaur ur ye :oP_

It takes Alice a moment to figure out what it means. Tarrant must be angry at something.

 _Alice: With Mirana at the statue. Where are you?_

 _Tarrant: at yer d'rm._

 _Tarrant: 'at glaikit moggie has mah hat again an' ah hink he's hidin' in yer room_

 _Alice: I'll be over._

Alice stuffs her phone back into her pocket. "That was Tarrant. Apparently Chess is hiding in our room, so I'm off to get him out."

Mirana giggles. "I'll come with you. Honestly, I don't understand why Cheshire doesn't just tell him already."

They begin walking. Alice frowns. "Tell him what?"

Mirana colors. "Oh, well, if you don't know I don't think it's my place to say."

Alice smiles a little, amused. Mirana looks a little less perfect this way. It's refreshing from the usual stark, unblemished canvas she normally is. "Now I really want to know."

"I shouldn't. Besides, now that I think about it, that'd make me a bit of a hypocrite if I did."

"How so?"

"I'm in a similar —" she clears her throat with a tiny cough. "Situation." She sets her gaze forward. "Let's just focus on getting back, okay?"

Alice raises an eyebrow and says nothing. Mirana's hiding something, and now she really wants to know what it is that makes the ivory queen flush so much.

* * *

They find Tarrant standing outside their door, arms folded, impatiently tapping his foot, eyes dark. He spots them and scowls.

"Thaur ye ur! Took ye lang enaw!"

Tarrant really has an unhealthy attachment to that hat. Alice does her best to ignore his moody behaviour as she fits the key into the lock. She barely gets the door cracked when Tarrant pushes past her, knocking her over and seizing his chance. Mirana is at her side immediately, offering her hand. Alice hesitates, but takes it anyway. The fire returns. Curiouser and curiouser. She's so caught up in the softness of Mirana's fingers, the delicate porcelain wrapped around her rougher, calloused hand as she pulls her to her feet, that she doesn't notice Tarrant until he speaks again, his voice dangerously low.

"One mair time, aam warnin' ye."

Chess scampers off, appearing as if he's got a tail between his legs, defeated. The second Tarrant's hat is back on, he transforms again.

"Thank you, Alice." he says, beaming. "You know, I really ought to get this thing glued to my head."

Without another word, he leaves, and Mirana and Alice are left alone, still holding hands. Alice realizes this and lets go. Mirana seems to frown at the loss of contact but quickly covers it with a graceful smile.

"Well, I should probably check on Cheshire. I'll see you at dinner, Alice."

With that she leaves the room, a flurry of snow out the door.

* * *

Alice lies back on her bed. Ever since the events of the afternoon, she hasn't been able to get Mirana out of her head. Even when she closes her eyes, the image of her perfect face dances beneath her lids. She's long since stopped trying to make excuses for the tightness in her chest whenever Mirana is near, the way her body heats up whenever they touch. That doesn't mean she has to accept these feelings, but her mind has other ideas. Her damned brain focuses on Mirana's lips, those dark, alluring, full lips. She wonders what they would feel like pressed against her own, her hands tangled in her impossibly soft hair, her body pressed flush against hers…

She groans and buries her face in her pillow. What is wrong with her?

"Alice?"

She clenches her fingers tighter around the pillow's edges at the sound of her melodic voice.

 _Keep it together._

She pushes herself into a sitting position and raises her eyes to meet Mirana's, only to be met by something strange in her gaze. Instead of her usual, disarmingly charming smile that sparks a warmth in her eyes, there is a sort of darkness swirling within them, and the smile appears to be more of a smirk. Alice clutches the sheets behind her back so as not to alert Mirana to the obvious effect this is having on her.

"Hello." she says, keeping her tone level.

Mirana advances towards her, elegance incarnate. "I'm glad you're awake." she says.

She settles herself onto Alice's lap, wrapping her arms around her neck. Alice swallows hard and forces herself to stare up at the ceiling, or a wall, or anywhere else but Mirana's face. Mirana giggles and leans in, her lips dangerously close to Alice's ear.

"What's the matter, Alice? Don't you want me?"

Alice shudders, Mirana's warm breath caressing her ear. She doesn't trust herself to say anything at all at the moment, afraid that she might destroy the moment with one wrong word.

A deft, slender finger hooks beneath Alice's chin, forcing Alice to look into Mirana's eyes. They have grown incredibly dark, stirring something within Alice that she had refused to acknowledge moments before. Mirana begins to lean in, eyes fluttering shut. Alice's heart pounds against her chest as her hands move of their own accord to rest on Mirana's hips. Is this really happening? Is she really going to—?

She stops inches away, so close that their foreheads are pressed together.

"Alice." she purrs.

Alice holds back a whine of frustration. "Yes, Mirana?" The words come out as a whisper.

Mirana pulls back, that smug smile still in place. "Alice." she says again, more sing-song this time.

Alice growls, tired of whatever game Mirana is playing, and grabs her turtleneck, pulling her down and finally capturing those dark petals in a fervent kiss.

Something is wrong.

Mirana had been so eager for this only moments before, but her lips, though softer and fuller than Alice could have possibly imagined, are unyielding. Alice pulls back slowly and opens her eyes.

* * *

Mirana's eyes are wide, lips parted in surprise. Alice realizes that she's still holding her turtleneck and lets go immediately, scooting back against the headboard. She'd kissed Mirana. In her sleep.

She _kissed_ Mirana.

Silence reigns for a moment.

"Alice —"

Alice hushes her with a finger. "Don't say anything." She gets off her bed, wiping the bit of lipstick she'd gotten on her finger on her jeans. "This never happened."

She shoves her phone into her pocket and leaves the dorm before Mirana can say another word.

* * *

10:00.

Thirty minutes after curfew and Alice is still dodging hall monitors left and right as she tries to remember where the boys' dormitories are. After moving behind another wall to let yet another monitor pass, she gives up and runs into the lavatory as soon as she has the chance. She can only hope that Tarrant is still awake. He's the only one she can talk to about this.

The phone rings once, twice, before Tarrant finally picks up.

"Hello?"

He sounds awake enough. "Where's your dorm?"

A pause from the other end. "It's across the hall from the girls' to the left, room 63." Damn, that explains it, she'd turned right instead. "Why?"

"I'll explain later, just unlock your door for me, alright?"

Another pause. "Alright then, but it's a bit of a mess. Wasn't expecting company."

 _Click_.

Alice shoves her phone into her pocket, and after a quick glance down the hall, backtracks until she gets to the proper turn. Room 63 is the room furthest in, and Alice barely makes it in just as she sees McTwisp enter the hall out of the corner of her eye. Hopefully, he didn't see her. She quickly closes the door behind her.

Bit of a mess is the understatement of the century. The room is clearly divided, with Tarrant's side being slightly cleaner than his roommate's. Tarrant's side is modestly furnished, —a bed covered with a quilt patterned with all sorts of wild prints, a few spools of thread as well as his book bag sitting on top, and a massive chest of drawers— the dresser piled high with brightly colored fabrics and sewing tools. Tarrant sits behind a great behemoth of a machine, hard at work on a pastel blue and white feathered hat that takes all of his attention, not looking up once when Alice entered. His roommate's end has a pile of rumpled clothes sitting on a desk chair, the desk itself covered in messily handwritten sheet music, capless pens, pencils, and a couple of erasers. A white acoustic guitar is propped up against the desk, a red pick wedged between the fretboard and the strings. Crumpled balls of paper are littered throughout, the bookshelf only holds books on the top tier, most of them being about music and parenting, while the second and third are home to bags of crisps, cans of pop, and three small boxes of pizza. The end table is the cleanest surface, with only a red Bible and what looks like a family photograph. The rubbish bin is overflowing, and the roommate himself sleeps under a thick purple blanket, his face barely visible beneath his long, chocolate brown hair swept into a fringe, a dark skinned hand hanging over the side. His soft snores and the needle going on Tarrant's machine are the only sounds in the room.

Alice seats herself on the one spot on Tarrant's bed that's clear. Tarrant's fingers work quickly, yet precisely, his eyes seemingly following every stitch the machine makes, the tiny needle going up and down. She clears her throat to announce herself, not wanting to startle him by tapping him.

The needle stops and the machine winds down to a stop, seeming to protest at the halt in progress. Tarrant turns his head. "Alright, Alice, what was so important that it couldn't wait until tomorrow." he says stiffly, his fingers idly fiddling with the white thread at the top of the machine. Alice reels a little at the slight hostility in his tone, and he softens. "I'm sorry, I've just got so many hats to finish in so little time. I promised Bayard I'd make some for his little ones as well for their birthday." He nods towards his roommate.

Little ones? Alice raises an eyebrow. "Little brothers?"

"Daughters and son." Tarrant says, correcting her. "They're triplets: Aida, Winifred, and Hendrix." Tarrant smiles. "Bielle named the girls. Bayard was insistent about naming the boy." He pauses. "But that's not what you're here to talk about." He shifts so he's facing her fully. "What's wrong?"

Alice grips the carpet, remembering why she'd come in the first place. "I… kissed Mirana."

"Oh."

Alice stares at him, incredulous. "Oh? That's all you're going to say?"

"Alright, well what did she do after?"

"I left before she could say anything."

Tarrant buries his face in his hands. "Alice." he groans.

"What?"

He drops his hands, his expression exasperated. "You can't do that. You can't do that with Mirana, in fact, you really shouldn't do that with anyone, that only leads to bad things but with Mirana and her position that could really put you both in terrible —"

"Tarrant."

"Danger, especially with Bloody Big Head on the warpath and —"

"Hatter!" Alice grabs his arm, stilling him.

"I'm fine." Tarrant sits back, his shoulders relaxing. He adjusts his hat and takes a deep breath. "You two need to talk before this gets out of hand."

"Out of hand? What could happen?"

"Since I have no idea how Mirana feels about you, and I'm assuming you don't either," Alice nods. "I don't have a definite idea of what she'll do exactly. What I do know is that either way, if you don't talk to her, she's going to bottle it up until she explodes, which will tip the scales in her sister's favor."

"The kiss was an accident! How would it help Iracebeth?"

"Their parents are more on the… ah… conservative side. If word were to get out about your kiss, it would ruin Mirana's chances at the scholarship. They'd give it straight to Iracebeth."

Alice frowns. "That's awful."

"Now you see why you must talk to her. Just answer me this: are you in love with her?"

Alice considers lying for a moment, then realizes that she's got to come to terms with this, for her own sake, at least. "I'm not sure. Definitely attracted to her, but I don't think that's the same thing as love."

"You want her, then."

Alice ponders this. Want? She allows images of Mirana to flood her mind, memories from the art class that had put them in such close proximity, the way she felt pressed against her as she guided her ivory hand across the canvas, the sweet vanilla scent that surrounds her, the way her smile makes her heart seem to flutter. The way even sometimes the most innocent remarks or accidental touches make her flush. No, this can't be love. Not yet, anyway.

"Yeah, I think I do."


	5. Tell Her How You Really Feel

**5**

Alice spent the night in Tarrant's dorm after a few cans of Firefly Tonic on the floor with a few extra blankets and one of Tarrant's pillows to the hum of Tarrant's machine. She finds him the next morning, fast asleep on the floor with three tiny hats set beside him —the one with blue and white feathers, a pink wide brimmed one tied round with a red sash accented by white buttons, and a black fedora patterned with white and gold music notes. He does wonderful work; maybe Alice will ask him to make her one when he's less busy. Bayard is still fast asleep, but a quick glance at the clock tells her that they should be down for breakfast soon. After balling up the blankets and setting them aside on top of the pillow, she leans over and shakes Tarrant awake.

Tarrant pops up with a jolt, his hat askew. "It's not ready yet!" he yelps. He looks around, his head jerking with each turn, before apparently realizing where he is. "Oh." His eyes focus on Alice. "What time is it?"

"7:25."

"Bollocks!" He leaps up, unbuttoning his shirt as he goes. "I'll see you at the Cibus, Alice. Thanks for waking me."

"No problem."

The shirt goes flying, landing on his bed, and he goes into his dresser for another one. "Talk to Mirana." His hat comes off for a second for him to put on a yellow polka dot long sleeved shirt, then goes back on immediately. He grabs the remaining pillow off his bed and chucks it at Bayard. "Oi, Bayard! Get up, we slept late again!"

A groggy grumble. "Five more minutes." Bayard mumbles.

"Five more minutes and McTwisp will be banging on our door! Get up!"

"You're worse than Bielle."

"Up!"

At this point, Alice decides she'd better leave. She runs back to her dorm, only to find Mirana already gone. Deciding that she only needs to change her shirt, she throws on a white cassette tape graphic tee, runs her fingers through her hair to make it seem presentable, and pulls her jacket on.

7:30.

Alice grabs her bag and throws a few other things in, including the Religious Studies assignment she'd forgotten to do last night. Damn. Maybe she could complete it during History. The professor didn't seem to care what his students did when she'd met him. She opens the door just as McTwisp has his fist raised to knock.

He purses his lips and clicks his pocket watch open. "B-barely on t-t-time. You'd b-better run. Be g-glad I won't w-write you up for this."

Alice mumbles a "thanks" she knows he doesn't deserve, and jogs down the hallway before slowing to a walk when she's sure McTwisp can't see her anymore. That kid goes by the minute. Alice can't imagine living that way.

She rounds the corner into the dining hall and spots Mirana in another white skirt and a lacy white blouse about to enter the Cicero. She strides over to her and grabs a plate on the way in.

Mirana starts at Alice's sudden appearance at her side. "Alice, hello!"

"Can we talk?"

Mirana tenses. "Can it wait —?"

"No."

"Okay." She glances at Alice's empty plate. "At least put something on your plate first?"

Alice looks at the spread before taking a few sausage links, two pancakes and a syrup packet. They walk to the Cibus in complete silence. Thackery attempts to flag Alice down but Alice dismisses him with an apologetic smile. They make their way over to a less crowded area and sit down.

"So…" Mirana says, seemingly at a loss.

"I wanted to talk about last night."

"You mean when you ran out on me." Mirana says, a tight smile gracing her features that makes the statement seem more positive than it actually is.

"Yeah, um, sorry about that."

Alice shifts her eyes, pushing her sausage links around with a fork, trying to buy some thinking time. Does she tell her how she feels? Or does she pretend that it was a mistake? Her eyes meet Mirana's for a second, and in them she sees a burning anticipation. No, she's got to be honest. No more games.

"I was dreaming about you, and in it, I kissed you." God, this is hard, not to mention all sorts of embarrassing. "I left because I didn't want to deal with your reaction, because I think I like you, and I have no idea how you feel."

Alice peers up at her, feeling smaller than usual at her confession. Mirana's expression is unreadable. Her eyes are wide, her lips pressed into a neutral line, as if processing, and her chin is sitting on her hands, fingers laced together. Finally, she sits up a little straighter and nods.

"Well, thank you for telling me, Alice." She rises, plate in hand. "I'm sorry that I can't tell you I feel the same."

Defeat is evident in Alice's eyes, but she tries not to let it show. "Can we still be friends?"

"Of course." Mirana's tone is hollow, emotionless. "I just need a moment to myself, alright?"

"Okay. I'll see you in Astronomy?"

"Yes."

Mirana walks away, gliding off like an angel from a dream, graceful and ethereal. The dull ache Alice hadn't been aware of before comes full force now as she watches her walk away. She feels more disappointed than she thought she would. Well, what did she expect her to say? That she likes her too? That she'd risk losing the scholarship for her, and to hell with her parents?

She should have lied.

After a bit more wallowing that she feels stupid for spending time on, she picks up her plate and finds Tarrant. Thackery bellows his usual greeting and Alice does her best to smile back at him. Mally scoots over so she can sit.

"How did it go?" Tarrant asks. Alice shoots him a look, and he backs off considerably. "Not well, then."

"What is he talking about, Alice?" Mally asks.

"Course change." Alice lies, stabbing into her sausage.

Mally makes a noise of understanding. "Don't worry, love. It's your last year, you'll make it just fine."

"Thanks, Mally."

* * *

Alice doesn't see Mirana again until her second class, History. She tries to focus on working on the Religious Studies assignment, but she can't seem to stop herself from glancing over at Mirana every now and then while the professor drones on about his family life, having run out of introductory material to discuss. Mirana's eyes never lift from her notebook, concentrating intently on whatever it is she's writing. She can't be taking notes, unless she genuinely believes that the professor's reenactment of his son's valedictorian speech will be on the next test. Mally has even resorted to reading a graphic novel, not even attempting to conceal it behind their actual textbook, which they have yet to open. Mirana turns a page for what seems like the seventh time. What can she possibly be writing in there?

Tarrant's hand on her shoulder jerks her out of her thoughts. "Alice, stop."

"What?"

"You know what."

"Sorry." Alice reluctantly returns her eyes back to her paper.

"Listen, I know this isn't easy. Rejection can be a terrible thing, but staring at her is not going to help at all. It only makes things worse."

He's right. Alice sighs and attempts to distract herself, filling out another question, trying not to rip the paper in two at the outright biased nature of it. "You sound like you're speaking from experience."

"I am."

"Oh."

"You'll move on from it, eventually." He glances at her paper. "You're actually filling that out? I was going to see if I could drop the class."

"You can't." Mally says, turning a page idly. "I've already tried. I've taken to protesting with some choice words."

Tarrant chuckles. "You're going to get yourself expelled that way."

Mally scoffs. "I don't give a rat's arse anymore. They can't flat out just dismiss other branches of faith and expect to get away with it. It's supposed to be Religious Studies, not the Catholic Monarchy."

"Amen." Alice says.

Mally giggles. "Tell me you didn't hear the irony in that, I dare you."

Tarrant rolls his eyes. "You're insufferable, Mally."

"Love you too, love." She returns back to her book.

Alice stares hard at the worksheet. She can do this.

Two minutes later her eyes are shifting across the room again.

"Stop it, Alice."

* * *

Mirana closes her journal. There, that should quell those feelings for now.

Writing hasn't really been helping lately. In fact, she's been getting worse. Before, she would only have to write one or two pages. Ever since Alice Kingsleigh had entered her life, she's gotten closer to writing ten with each passing day. Today marks her first seven page entry. She rereads one line that thrills her, yet terrifies her at the same time.

 _I wish she would kiss me again._

How can she think such a thing, let alone put it into writing? Proper young ladies don't think about other ladies this way. Her mother says that any such lady that thinks such improprieties must be insane and should check herself into the nearest asylum.

Has she gone mad?

She doesn't want to show the Reverend what she's written today. It is far more vivid than the rest of her entries, and the required prayer at the end had been added as a mere afterthought.

She thinks back on that night, when she'd wandered into their shared dorm. Alice had been lying on her back, looking more peaceful than Mirana had ever seen her, wild blonde hair splayed out, limbs sprawled across the bed.

And then she had said her name.

She had merely been concerned for Alice's well-being. That's why she had knelt at her bedside and called for her, right? Of course!

That was when Alice had pulled her down by her turtleneck and pressed her thin, pink lips to hers, leaning up into her. Mirana had been paralyzed by shock at the sudden action. She had wanted to respond and kiss her back, oh, yes, she most certainly had, but she couldn't believe her own body's reaction to this kiss in particular —a warm, fiery sensation that made her toes curl— when others before had failed to excite her, and so she froze. Up until then, she had always believed that a kiss should not cause this much excitement. By the time she considered giving in, Alice had already pulled away, a faint impression of Mirana's lipstick left as the only reminder that that indeed had just happened.

And then she was gone, disappearing out the door.

 _I wish she would kiss me again_.

No, she shouldn't. She can't. It's improper.

The images persist —that cheeky grin, the way her fingers wrapped around her wrist, gently guiding her hand across the canvas, how she continued to hold her hand even after she'd helped her up. The kiss that had made her feel more alive than she had ever felt before.

The way she had looked at her today, with so much hope in her eyes after revealing her true feelings, a hope that almost made her drop everything she'd ever believe in and just say yes, yes, she feels the same, and it's about time you said something about it you silly— Panicking at that thought, she hurries to stop it in its tracks and flips to the back of her journal. This is all her fault. If only she had simply ignored that unconventional girl instead of allowing herself to be intrigued by her. Now look at the utter mess she's in. She flips faster, getting slightly frustrated at the pages that stuck together but careful not to let it show on her face. To any observer, she would only appear to be searching through her notes, rather than on the verge of a breakdown.

A sigh of relief escapes her. It's still there, a white business card bordered with an elegant black pattern that her mother had given her for emergencies like this. She never thought she'd have to use it, but better now before she's too far gone.

Dr. Angus Bumby

Rutledge Asylum

777 Salvation Avenue

LIVERDON

EC2A

+44 (0) 151 496 0057

Perhaps she'll give him a call.


	6. Choices

**6**

Mirana expects her mother to be furious, to disown her immediately, to turn everything over to Iracebeth without a single thought.

What she doesn't expect her mother to be is proud beyond measure.

"Oh, darling, I'm so happy you checked yourself in!" Genevieve Underland's breezy voice cracks with the static of the speaker. "Such a shame for this to happen to you, of course, but at least you're going to get all better now. Do you know how long you'll be?"

Mirana glances at her file. "It says two weeks, but Dr. Bumby told the nurse that I might have to be longer. It all depends on the conversion therapy."

Her mother sighs. "Well, just do whatever Dr. Bumby says, and I'm sure you'll be alright."

"Thank you, mother."

"Oh, it's no trouble, darling."

An orderly in mucky green scrubs holds up a finger. One minute left. "I have to go, mother. I love you."

"I love you too, darling."

 _Click_.

Mirana reluctantly hangs the phone back up on the receiver. On her first day at Rutledge, after congratulating her for turning herself in the way her mother had, they had taken her clothes and given her a dingy, long, white tunic to wear and shown her her room within mere minutes of changing, where she is now following the orderly back to.

Her room is at the back of the ward, a tiny four by four with hardwood rotting oak floorboards and a stiff mattress sitting on an iron bed frame covered with a paper thin green blanket and one hardly stuffed pillow. No windows, a single door that locks from the outside only, and a camera mounted in the top right corner.

In short, a prison cell.

But if this is what cures her, then so be it.

The orderly, a man with an empty expression and a sluggish gait, tells her that Dr. Bumby will be in to see her shortly. Mirana thanks him and sits down on the bed.

Evidently, shortly means a matter of seconds, because no sooner has the door closed it's opening again. A bearded brown haired man with a side part and silver spectacles wearing a white button up, faded blue vest, black tie, and slacks steps into the room, a clipboard tucked under his arm. His gunmetal blue eyes look her up and down, an appreciative smile spreading across his wrinkled face as they roam her body. Mirana feels uncomfortable under such strange scrutiny, but then remembers that it is a doctor's job to examine his patients. Still, the gleam in his eyes doesn't help ease her mind.

"Hello, Mirana." he says. "My name is Mr. Bumby. How are you today?"

"I'm fine, I suppose."

"It says here that you checked yourself in." Mirana nods. "I'm very proud of you for that. That is the first step to curing yourself — acknowledging that there is, indeed, a problem."

"Do you promise that you can cure me?"

Dr. Bumby chuckles. "I'll do more than that, I can assure you. I have another patient, a younger boy, about a few years younger than you. My plan is to cure both of you simultaneously."

Mirana stares at him, incredulous. "You can do that?"

"Of course, my dear. Now, tell me about this girl."

"Her name is Alice. Alice Kingsleigh."

* * *

It's been a week since Mirana disappeared from Underland Academy, and Alice is starting to lose it. The school's story had been medical leave, but the day Mirana left had also been the day after Alice had finally confessed her feelings, and backfired. It can't be a coincidence that the two happened so close together, and it's all her fault.

Mirana's absence has made it difficult for her to concentrate on classes, to say the least. Not many of her teachers notice, or seem to care, really. All but two, that is. Professor Alden makes it a point to rap on her desk at least once every class to reengage her, and then proceed to have her answer a series of unnecessarily difficult questions. If she's lucky, she can answer two correctly, at most, and always, after every class, he seemed to add an extra layer of work to his already heavy daily assignments that send her working into the earliest hours of the morning, three at the latest just to keep her grades high. The work isn't necessarily hard, just tedious. Professor Flora looks at her with an overwhelming sympathy whenever she thinks Alice can't see her. She's clearly worried, but seems unsure if it is her place to say anything. She makes less than subtle comments about Alice's art, which lately has been containing an awful lot of blue and white, telling her that her mind is with someone else, reaching out, searching, and that she'd love to know who if she doesn't mind telling. Alice dismisses these with what she hopes is a reassuring smile, but the wariness in Professor Flora's eyes tells her she's not very convincing. Is she really that obvious? It's not as if she's painting Mirana's portrait, but to Professor Flora, she may as well be.

The White Queen's absence has caused some turmoil in the society of the school itself. Without Mirana to campaign for herself and befriend everyone, Iracebeth has taken to destroying all of Mirana's former alliances and spreading nasty rumors about her younger sister. Tensions have skyrocketed. Iracebeth's gang, unheard of until now, has come out from the shadows, frightening anyone undecided into pledging their allegiance to the Red Queen. The Bandersnatch, as he calls himself, a salt and pepper spiky haired junior with massive biceps and thick, steel toed boots that can crush bone, would threaten to beat anyone within an inch of their life who dared oppose Iracebeth. The Jabberwocky, a tall, lean senior with dark purple and black streaked hair pulled high dressed in shredded leather from head to toe, works from the shadows, mysteriously poisoning students or stealing assignments, and sometimes even hanging someone from the Founder's statue every now and then to make an example —more often than not it ends up being McTwisp, seeing as he's an easy target. There is never any tangible proof to catch the Jabberwocky in the act, but he always seems to be in the presence of misfortune whenever he isn't following Iracebeth like a loyal pet. Stayne, of course, is her primary protector, and remains practically attached to her hip. The staff are completely oblivious to it all, or are simply choosing not to get involved, giving Iracebeth free reign of the school. As far as she knows, Alice is still undecided, but she always manages to escape the Red Queen and any of her gang with Tarrant. She spends her time out checking over her shoulder more often than she'd like.

Even without considering her personal feelings on the matter, Alice knows one thing is for certain: Mirana must come back.

Today is the final straw. When Alice passes the Founder's statue on the way to her A2 English class, she finds McTwisp hanging from the back of it yet again, but this time with a black eye. She rushes over to him immediately.

"McTwisp, how long have you been up there?" she cries, lifting the scrawny boy by his arms and onto the pathway.

"S-s-since l-lunch, I think. Oof, my h-head h-hurts." He sways a little, and Alice steadies him. "T-t-hank you, A-alice."

Alice debates whether to ask him if he's alright before realizing how silly that question is. "Do you want some ice for your eye?"

McTwisp clicks open his pocket watch. "Y-you'll b-be late."

"I don't care. Come on, there should be some in the Cicero." She pulls his arm around her shoulders and wraps hers around his waist to support him. "I've got you."

They walk back in silence, McTwisp leaning heavily against her, but Alice doesn't mind. True, he can be an absolute pain in the arse, but no one deserves this kind of abuse. She can't sit still for this, not any longer. Forget protecting herself, this can't go on.

After sitting McTwisp down on a stool, Alice retrieves ice from the dispenser and wraps it in a white cloth napkin. She hands it to McTwisp, who smiles at her gratefully. Alice realizes that this is the first time she's ever seen him smile. It's endearing and heartbreaking all at the same time. She glances at the clock, and sees that she's already half an hour late, but that hardly matters now.

"N-nivens."

Alice turns to him. "What?"

"N-nivens." McTwisp points to himself. "My n-name is N-nivens."

"Oh." Alice isn't sure what to say. "Thank you for telling me." she adds after a brief pause.

"I alw-ways went by my s-surn-name to sound t-tougher. But now, I d-don't see m-much p-point." Nivens sighs. "It's a-all over n-now, I sup-p-pose. With M-mirana g-gone, that is."

Alice lays what she hopes is a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Don't give up just yet. We'll get to the bottom of this." She hopes she isn't making promises she can't keep.

They are interrupted by Chess dashing into the Cicero and immediately darting behind Alice, clinging to her waist. She winces as his long fingernails dig into her t-shirt, but decides not to mention it at the expression of pure panic in his eyes, eyes that are flashing frantically around the room.

"Chess, what's wrong?"

Iracebeth's high, nasal voice pierces the air, preceding her before she enters the room, as always.

"Here, kitty kitty!"

Chess remains hidden behind her, trembling, as Iracebeth storms into the Cicero, flanked by Stayne and the Jabberwocky. Her eyes find Alice instantly, then sweep over to Chess, who buries his face in her back.

"Cowering behind that mess of hair, are you?" She cackles. "You're lucky. She's done me an outright favor, so I won't sic my Jabber-baby-wocky on her. You're safe, for now."

Alice frowns. Favor? "What are you talking about?" She would never betray Mirana like that!

Iracebeth rolls her eyes. "Oh, don't play dumb. I know you're the reason why my sister left. I saw you two talking last week."

Nivens's eyes widen. "A-alice, is th-that t-true?"

Chess's grip on Alice loosens considerably, and he looks at her, waiting for her to confirm or deny. Alice is at a loss, her mouth becoming dry. A dull ache overcomes her, right from her heart. It is true, but not the way that Iracebeth is implying. Still, she can't get the words out. "I —"

"O-of c-c-course i-it i-is!" Iracebeth insists, mocking him. "And I can't be more grateful to her. Now, why don't you and kitty over here run along before I string you up like a rabbit again?" Her gaze returns to Alice. "I'd like to have a conversation with this one, girl to girl!"

Nivens takes Chess's hand, coaxing him to follow. He refuses to look at Alice as they leave, head down, while Chess only stares at her with a mixture of hurt and confusion as he pads after Nivens. Alice wishes she could say something to refute Iracebeth, but the Red Queen is right: she must be the reason Mirana left.

As soon as Nivens and Chess are gone, Iracebeth jerks her head towards the door. "Stayne." she orders, and he goes to close the door without further instruction before coming to stand at her side. She smiles at Alice, but it is cruel, lacking all the warmth of her sister's. Despite herself, Alice feels fear creeping up her spine, chilling her. Iracebeth can have her absolutely destroyed right now if she so desires. Iracebeth looks at the stool, then at the Jabberwocky, who wordlessly brings it over for her to sit, then sits at her feet, resting his head on her knee, much like a guard dog. In that moment, Iracebeth looks immensely, terribly regal. Once settled, she continues, tone dripping with anticipation. "So, how _did_ you do it?"

Alice stares, bewildered. "Do what?"

"Get rid of my sister. I've been trying for years, but nothing has worked until now." She leans in. "I'm _dying_ to know."

Alice fidgets, unsure. On one hand, she wants to tell Iracebeth that she had nothing to do with it, but that's not entirely true, but on the other, she doesn't want to pledge fealty to this monstrous woman. On an impossible third hand still, she finds it a little difficult to believe that a few words from her could drive Mirana away to whatever far off land she's gone too. Damned if she does and damned if she doesn't.

She is saved, mercifully, by the bell. Iracebeth groans, disappointed.

"We'll continue this later." she says. "I can't afford to miss my maths. Daddy dearest threatened to cut me off again if I do." She pouts. "He's so unreasonable. Anyway, meet me at the statue after class. We have much to discuss."

With that, the Red Queen and her gang depart, leaving Alice alone in the Cicero to wonder why she didn't just say no.

* * *

Alice doesn't go to her Art class and instead makes a run for the library. Truth be told, she's only ever been there once, over the summer to receive her books for the year, but she'd rather bide her time there than standing over a toilet in a cramped stall. Besides, even if she were to go to class, she'd be surrounded with reminders of Mirana everywhere. Mercifully, it is essentially empty, and the librarian, an elderly woman absorbed in her computer, pays her no mind when she walks in. She chooses a spot towards the back where she won't be disturbed and pulls out her phone.

 _I need your help._

There's a pause that seems to last an eternity before Tarrant responds:

 _What else is new? :P With what?_

Alice frowns.

 _What's that supposed to mean?_

 _Don't worry about it. What's the problem?_

 _Iracebeth wants to see me after last class._

 _Why?_

 _She wants to know how I got rid of her sister._

 _You told her you didn't, right?_

 _Right?_

 _no._

 _Why not?_

 _Because I don't want to be one of Iracebeth's targets! Didn't you see Nivens today?_

 _Who?_

 _McTwisp. Anyway, what do I do?_

 _Tarrant?_

 _You have to meet her, otherwise she'll just have the Bandersnatch hunt you down. I can't believe I have to be the one telling you this, but lie, Alice! If she already thinks she's got you on her side, play along, since you didn't exactly deny it. We might be able to use that to our advantage._

 _What happened to not taking sides?_

 _At this point, it's too late for that._

 _I have to go, Needles is coming back to my row. Fairfarren, Alice._

Alice clears her screen and checks the time. Twenty minutes past class. Should she risk arriving late? Maybe, but she also has that class with Chess. The look in Chess's eyes resurfaces in her memory, and a sharp pang stabs at Alice's heart. He had been so confused, unsure if there was any truth in what had been said, still believing enough in her goodness to doubt what he'd heard, but another part of him still that made him wonder if he should. Better question: can she face Chess, with him possibly believing that she had betrayed them all and brought about this miserable tyranny they now endure?

No. She can't face that look again, not now.

Alice opens her bag and takes out her binder and a few books. She'll meet Iracebeth later and follow Tarrant's advice, but for now, she might as well get some work done.


	7. Alliance

**WARNING**

 **This chapter contains scenes depicting and discussing bipolar disorder.**

* * *

 **7**

Alice is sitting at the statue waiting for Iracebeth an hour later. Now having caught up with her work, she's given herself one less thing to worry about, leaving her meeting with the Red Queen at the forefront of her mind.

Perhaps this is why she didn't notice Professor Alden approach her.

"Miss Kingsleigh."

Alice raises her head to meet the constantly disapproving gaze of her Astronomy teacher. "Hello, Professor Alden." she says cooly. If he gives her another assignment today after this morning's latest pile of work, so help her —

"Professor Flora tells me your work has been suffering."

Damn her over-attentiveness! Wait, suffering? Her art hasn't been that awful, has it?"How so?" she asks, attempting to maintain some semblance of calm.

"She says that you keep using the same theme over and over again. No deviation, no expression beyond blue and white. As she put it, you seem to have lost your muchness since Mirana left."

"Muchness?"

"The essence of what makes you, you." Professor Alden explains dismissively. "She has asked me to tell you that she requests a meeting with you at your earliest convenience. I, of course, told her that she shouldn't cater to you, since you did skip her class and are essentially squandering your intellect —"

Alice really can't help what comes out next. "What made you her errand boy?" The thought of Professor Alden doing anything for anybody just sounds outright absurd.

Professor Alden's features twist into a scowl, but Alice doesn't recoil. He's been torturing her all week with his extra work and snide commentary; she's owed at least this one barb. When he sees that she has no intention of taking back what she said, he continues. "She is a respected colleague of mine. I did her a favor. I am no one's errand boy." he snarls, seeming to take more offense than necessary. "You're the one with a silly school girl crush." With that, before Alice can protest, he turns on his heel and storms off while still holding the same powerful gait.

Alice balls up her hand and punches the ground, leaving a decent size dent. That man can go to hell for all she cares. He deliberately antagonizes her on a regular basis; where does he get off? To top it all off, she's got Professor Flora on her case as well. The woman means well, she supposes, but honestly half the time her concerns feel downright invasive.

"Aren't you going to bow?"

Stayne's condescending voice snaps her out of her thoughts. She sees Iracebeth, hands on her hips, waiting for her to do so. Oh, right. She's supposed to pretend to be on her side now. Alice rises and bends into a half-hearted curtsey, ignoring the stab to her pride. She notices that Iracebeth has only brought Stayne with her this time. Why would the Red Queen meet with her without her entire entourage?

"Where's the Jabberwocky?" she asks.

Iracebeth rolls her eyes. "He doesn't trust you, so I sent him hunting with the Bandersnatch. He'll come around eventually. Stupid boy's hopelessly in love with me, but honestly, who can blame him?" She fluffs her hair a little at that, smiling. Stayne is not so amused, but with that ever-present scowl, it's impossible to tell. She takes his hand possessively. "We're going to my dorm. Follow us."

* * *

Iracebeth's dorm is the definition of Hell brought to the surface. Her walls, unlike the rest of the dorms, are painted pitch black, accented with crimson red curtains and covered with heavy metal posters. Her room is somewhere in between neat and tidy, with just enough out of place to be considered cluttered. Her bed is an enormous queen with a heart shaped plush headboard done up in the same red and black that runs throughout the sheets, blankets, and pillow pile, and is also the only one in the room. She must have kicked out any potential roommates ages ago, if they hadn't run off already. All through the room are miniature models of various graphic death scenes, the most noteworthy sculptures being a tiny knight scorched by a great horned dragon and another with a pillory encasing a queen dressed all in white perched on what appears to be a music box mechanism, the dark hooded executioner standing erect, axe held high in mid-swing. Curiouser and curiouser. Upon closer examination of the queen's face, Alice realizes with a sickening sensation that it is Mirana, painted in horrifyingly accurate detail, eyes wide with fear. She's not sure how Iracebeth had this made, but she's fairly certain that she does not want to know.

The Red Queen notices her appearing to admire the scene and smiles. "That's an anniversary present from Stayne. Cost him nearly three-hundred pounds."

Alice's jaw drops. "Three-hundred pounds? How on earth —?"

"I have my ways." Stayne says with a self-satisfied smirk. "There is no price on my Queen's happiness. If it were possible, I would make that scene a reality."

If it weren't for their apparent sadism, Alice might have found something in that sweet rather than nauseating. She watches, masking her horror as Iracebeth winds the box to demonstrate. An eerie tune begins, swelling as the executioner raises the axe higher and higher, before abruptly cutting itself short when the axe swings down, beheading the White Queen. Iracebeth looks to Alice for approval, perhaps, as she resets the box, and Alice forces herself to smile.

Iracebeth sits on her bed, pulling Stayne with her, and gestures toward her desk chair, the desk bearing another miniature scene of a real Jabberwocky in midchase after a crowd of people with thick red hair. "Sit." Alice does, a bit hesitantly, onto the lacy red cushion on top of the chair that slides a little. "So tell me how you did it. Don't leave out a single detail."

Oh, Hell. Got to think of something quick. She probably should have spent time thinking up that master plan in the library as well. No, it's okay. Think of it like a painting. The picture will tell the story itself. Alice picks up her mental paintbrush and begins.

 _Mirana, moving about, as if in a dream, hands aloft as if conducting a symphony following her wherever she glides. Alice from afar, watching, transfixed, leaning against a column, perhaps._

"Well, I had to get her alone first."

"Done that." Stayne snorts. "That's the first thing we do. What else?"

 _They meet halfway, and Mirana takes Alice's arm._

This is becoming more of a fantasy by the minute. Reel it in, Kingsleigh. An idea strikes her. The mental paintbrush is tossed aside, for now, in favor of embellishing the truth with a few well-placed lies.

"Would you say your parents are very conservative?" she asks.

Iracebeth raises an eyebrow. "Why?"

Alice takes that as a yes and proceeds. "Because I told her that someone here has a crush on her. Someone female, and that she'd catch it if she stayed here."

She waits with baited breath, hoping Iracebeth buys it. She doesn't really like describing sexuality as a disease, but from what she's learned, it's possible that some people actually believe that.

After a moment that seems to stretch into an eternity, Iracebeth throws her hands up in frustration.

"It was that simple!" She turns to Stayne, sulking. "Why didn't you think of that?"

Stayne shrugs, clearly unsure of why this is his fault. "It never crossed my mind?" he offers.

Iracebeth swats his arm none too gently. "You ought to take lessons from her, then." Stayne glowers at Alice at that, not liking being outperformed one bit. Iracebeth, oblivious to any of it, carries on. "That explains why she checked herself in, then."

"Checked herself in?"

"That is what I said. Yes, into Rutledge. She's always overreacted to this sort of thing, thinking that it's something you can catch. I don't really mind it much, but Daddy says that it's a crime against God."

Alice barely hears that last bit, ears latching on to _Rutledge_. The name is uncannily familiar, a part of her past she'd buried long ago. She needs to talk to Tarrant, now.

She gets up abruptly and heads for the door. "I have to go."

"So soon?" Stayne sneers, clearly glad to be rid of her.

"Yes, why can't you stay?"

Alice mumbles some excuse about bookwork and heads out the door.

* * *

 _Rap, rap, rap, rap, rap!_

"Tarrant, open up!"

Tarrant's muffled response barely comes through the door. "Not now, Alice!"

There are sounds of a scuffle, a thud, and some grunting coming through on Alice's end. What is he doing in there? Then she hears Bayard say:

"McTwisp, you've got to take this!"

Another voice answers, one Alice has never heard before, a deep growl, then another thud, a groan.

"There's no point anymore, Bayard! I've simply gone mad!"

"You're not yourself!" Tarrant counters. "Hold still! Ow!"

Someone giggles, but mirthlessly, the madness evident in the haunting sound that chills Alice to her core. She knows the sound all too well. Her knocking grows more insistent, urgent. She has to get in and see what's going on.

"Let me in!"

Another groan, then:

"Bayard, I think I've got him. Go let Alice in."

"But McTwisp-!"

"Did this to himself. Now open the door!"

The door sticks for a moment before it is yanked back. Bayard stands in the doorway, sporting several bruises on his right arm. He pulls Alice inside and slams the door shut.

Tarrant is holding down a flailing McTwisp on the floor. A broken syringe lies nearby, amber liquid leaking out. McTwisp jerks his head left and right, eyes unseeing. He cries out, but the voice is not his.

"Gerroffme!" he growls.

He lands a kick to Tarrant's stomach, a surprising display of strength, knocking the Hatter back. Bayard kicks into action, grabbing McTwisp's legs and bowling him over just as Tarrant runs back to grab his arms.

"Don't just stand there!" Tarrant yells. "Go into my dresser, top drawer." Alice races over, pulling the drawer open. He continues, attempting to stabilize his tone. "Get one of the syringe packets and open it, plunger end to pull it out, and don't touch the other end." The white paper is ripped apart, tossed aside in the moment. "Get a needle and open it from the colored end, then screw it into the top of the syringe." Another bit of paper cast aside, needle screwed into the syringe, still capped. "Take the cap off and adjust the needle so it's about half out." He carries on. "Get one of those vials," he cuts Alice off when he sees her about to ask. "They're all the same, unscrew the cap and stab the needle in there." The cap flies off and Alice sticks the needle through the paper cover. "Now turn the vial over, and carefully release the plunger until it's filled about halfway. Pull it out and bring it over here."

Alice comes over, carefully this time, not wanting to break the syringe. Seeing the needle, McTwisp thrashes faster, jerking away.

"Get that out of my face! You think you can silence me? I am stronger now! I can lead the revolution! Destroy the poison!"

"Jab it into his arm, Alice." Tarrant says calmly, but his face says otherwise.

"You don't know what you're doing!"

"Now, Alice!" Bayard snarls, eyes wild with panic.

Alice jabs the needle into his arm. McTwisp continues to thrash, even as the syringe is drained completely, shouting expletives.

It was the longest seven minutes ever spent.

McTwisp comes to a shuddering stop, then goes completely limp, eyes drooping shut.

Tarrant pulls him to his feet before passing him off to Bayard. "Take him to the nurse."

Bayard nods and scoops McTwisp up and into his arms, closing the door noticeably quieter.

Tarrant falls back onto his bed with an exhausted sigh. Alice moves to sit beside him, setting the syringe on top of the dresser.

"What was that all about?" she asks.

Tarrant buries his face in his hands, massaging his eyes. "McTwisp had a relapse. He's been off his meds for at least a week now."

"Relapse? What does he have?"

He drops his hands to his side, but he keeps clenching and unclenching his fists, crumpling his blanket. "Bipolar disorder. This is his first relapse in two years. I got sedatives for him the first time it happened freshman year. Never thought I'd have to use them."

Alice shifts on his bed, shelving her own dilemma aside for once. "Why did he stop his meds?"

"When Mirana left, it set him off. Made him lose hope completely. He just… gave up. But he still wanted others on schedule." He laughs a little at that, tired eyes crinkling at the corners. "Funny, he wants everyone else on time, but that watch he wears is what keeps him on time for his medicine. Mirana was the one that gave it to him." He props himself up on his elbows, and when he speaks again, his voice is small and sad, lacking its usual jovial lilt. "It's all so awful now, and it can only get worse. Without a leader, we have nothing. More of us will be beaten into the ground, more of us will burn out from all the stress, and more of us will just give up because it won't be worth trying anymore, because who cares about exams and papers and commissions when your friends are all slowly dying all around you and-" He stops to take a shuddering breath, and it is then that Alice notices the tears welling up in his eyes. "I was wrong, Alice. This war affects us all. So please, tell me that you've learned something about Mirana's whereabouts, because she is our only hope. Tell me that's why you've come here."

Alice wordlessly pulls him into her arms, adjusting his hat to settle it more firmly onto his head. The dam breaks loose then, and for the first time, the Hatter cries.

They stay that way for a few more minutes before Alice pulls away and finally breaks the silence.

"Mirana's in Rutledge Asylum. She checked herself in, and it's all my fault."

"Rutledge?" Tarrant's eyes darken, and he switches accents in seconds. "Ye mean th' sam Rutledge wi 'at wankstain Bumby?!"

"How did you know?"

"Ah was thaur a year until mah parents gae up. Rutledge's no asylum. It's conversion therapy fur onie LGBTQ fowk." His hands ball into fists. Mah hat was th' only hin' 'at kept me sane. Mostly."

"Then we've got to get her out as soon as possible"


	8. Therapy

**WARNING**

 **This chapter contains scenes depicting conversion therapy, nudity, rape, and a mention of suicide.**

* * *

 **8**

 _I'm going to get better. I'm going to get better._

That's what Mirana has to keep telling herself over and over, hoping maybe one day it'll be true. Her first two sessions with Dr. Bumby haven't exactly been going very well.

He had started with attempting to find the root of the problem.

 _Angus Bumby strides into the room, a clipboard with a fresh sheaf of papers ready to make more notes towards the progression of Mirana's cure. After initially discussing Alice the day before, he had concluded that she was not too far gone to be saved — no patient was. The fact that she had rejected Miss Kingsleigh's advances was admirable and would make her all the more malleable to be rolled back into that perfect, straight rod he knew she was meant to be._

 _He settles himself at the foot of the glorified rock the patient must call a bed and makes a few scratches on the paper before beginning in his usual way._

" _How are you today, Mirana?"_

" _Hopeful." she answers honestly. Hopeful to be cured, hopeful to go back to school stronger than ever, hopeful to be surrounded by her comforting flurry of white once more. Hopeful for lots of things._

" _Good. Now, with cases such as yours, I have found that they are a result of a childhood trauma, a catalyst to the mental illness that is homosexuality. Can you recall anything in particular in that regard?"_

 _Mirana frowns. As far as she can remember, aside from the spats with her sister, her childhood had been relatively happy. "Such as?"_

" _Do you remember being molested as a child?"_

 _Mirana jerks back, eyes wide. "No! I never —!"_

 _Dr. Bumby lays a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Shh, shh. That clearly means you have and your mind has blocked it out. However, we're going to have to bring that back to the surface to cure you, alright?"_

 _Mirana nods slowly, suddenly feeling very ill, staring hard at the floor to maintain control._

 _The day after that, he had drilled her with a series of questions, trying to dredge up any memories of her alleged rapist. Though Mirana tried her best, she couldn't find anything in her past on the subject, and it had driven her to tears at having failed what was apparently the most basic part of the therapy. Dr. Bumby had held her in his arms and reassured her that this was only the beginning of a perfect process, and the first stage was not the end. Comforted, Mirana agreed to keep going._

The second part was the aversion component, perhaps the most damaging part and yet promised to be the most healing. It would help Mirana associate any homosexual tendencies with negative stimuli, but the stimuli themselves were a feat to endure and left her crying her eyes out every night for the three days it took place from the physical pain alone.

 _Dr. Bumby enters this time with an orderly following close behind, a coil of copper wire, cutters, and a lighter in a plastic bag in one hand, and in the other, a laptop. He follows with dead eyes, numbed to his surroundings from years in his scrubs._

" _All right, Mirana. Since we could not unearth the source of your clear trauma, we're going to try aversion therapy."_

 _Mirana watches as the orderly cuts a length of wire, winds several loops of it around her right wrist, then ties it off at the end. "What's that?"_

" _Oh, it's relatively simple. If we associate the feelings that come with your disorder with negative stimuli, then we will be able to eradicate it." The orderly boots up the computer; Dr. Bumby continues as the loading screen cycles through. "We used to use electroshock, but the effects proved more… er, damaging, than it was worth. Now we use copper bands."_

 _The orderly taps something into the search bar, and when the website loads, Mirana realizes that it's a pornography website. Her chest tightens. She's never seen any pornography before, wanting to keep herself chaste while her sister did otherwise, and she's a little frightened, not quite knowing what she'll see. How does this have anything to do with her treatment?_

" _What's…?" Her voice comes out small and unsure. She can't even bring herself to say the filthy word and merely points to the screen. "What's that for?"_

 _Dr. Bumby laughs at her trepidation. "Not to worry, my dear. This will help you, I promise."_

 _The orderly clicks on a video half an hour long. Mirana blanches. Surely she won't be watching the entire thing? Upon unfortunately closer inspection, she sees that not only is it half an hour, it is also a scene between two women. She colors. No, this can't be happening! She's not ready!_

" _Now, you are aware that the pupils dilate when you are aroused, yes?"_

 _Goodness, maybe she had sheltered herself too much. "No."_

 _Dr. Bumby gives an amused smile. "Such an innocent girl. Well, they do. So, if I see your pupils dilate while watching this impure act, the orderly will apply heat to the copper at a signal from me. It will be painful, but it will help you. You must remember that at all times, no matter how much it hurts, understand?"_

 _Mirana nods. "I understand."_

 _Dr. Bumby nods to the orderly. "Proceed."_

 _The orderly presses play._

 _Mirana's eyes are immediately assaulted with images of a half-naked blonde woman straddling a completely nude brunette lying on a bed. The blonde, wearing only a black lace bra and shorts, rolls her hips against the brunette, drawing out long, high moans from the woman beneath her. Watching, Mirana subconsciously imagines that she can feel the blonde grinding on top her, and heat pools between her legs at the sensation. As she's moving on top of her, the blonde trails her hands down the brunette's chest to cup full, pert breasts, before sliding down to take a dusky nipple into her mouth. Mirana can practically feel those full lips nipping and licking at her breast. She wants more, so much —_

 _Searing hot pain attacks her right wrist, the metal heating, burning her flesh, like pressing a hot mug of tea to it, only so much worse. A scream rips from her throat. Mirana jerks her arm back, tears her eyes away from the screen. She fumbles with the wire but it's too hot to touch, too hot to even try to take off._

" _Stop."_

 _Mr. Bumby's voice cuts through everything, rising through the pain, the sounds from the laptop. The video is paused, and the orderly dutifully unwinds the copper. Mirana clutches her wrist, which is already blistering. The angry red band is physical evidence of her shame._

" _Treat her wound." he says matter-of-factly, unfeeling. "We'll try again tomorrow." He kneels in front of Mirana. "I'm very proud of you Mirana. We're finally getting somewhere."_

 _All Mirana can do is tell herself: This will help me._

They had alternated wrists, and after every time, Dr. Bumby would have the orderly treat her wrists, then praise her for a job well done. She was never burned badly enough to completely destroy her wrists, though she finds it hurts to bend them more than a little. They are wrapped in gauze now, but she knows what the marred skin looks like underneath. An imperfection to her once unblemished skin. That was what had made her cry the most. Still, she supposes the treatment has done its job. The idea of anything sexual, or anything involving touching at all, repulses her.

The third session would be taking place today. Mirana has high hopes for today. Today's session is called "encouragement". This can only mean positive reinforcement, no more pain. The thought is fueled by what little false hope remains, a flickering candle in a cave of darkness.

Dr. Bumby comes in with his usual clipboard and greets her in his usual way.

"How are you today, Mirana?"

Mirana sits at the head of her bed, back against her pillow, staring straight ahead at the wall ahead, legs huddled to her chest. Her arms rest atop her knees, keeping her wrists straight. "I'm alright." she says. "I… could be better." she adds a bit hesitantly.

Dr. Bumby smiles. "We all can be better. Every day is a chance to improve ourselves. Today, you are going to help improve another, and he will help improve you." He turns around, and, finding no one there, frowns. "Mason?" He spots his target and moves towards the doorframe. "Come now, you're here to help each other." he says with a beckoning hand.

A boy, looking not much younger than herself, limps into the room. He wears the same dirty white clothing as Mirana, but instead of only having gauze wrapped around his wrists, he has it wrapped around his ankles as well. His head is shaved close all around, black fuzz, and he looks at her with pained grey eyes.

Dr. Bumby gives the boy's shoulder a hearty clap, to which he winces and carefully wraps his arms around himself. "This is Mason Potter. He struggles with homosexual tendencies as well _—_ a persistent, unhealthy attraction to men. He'll be a perfect match for you." He pushes Mason forward, but the light touch nearly knocks him over. He stumbles and almost falls. "Go on Mason, tell her she's pretty."

Mason looks up at her, unsure. "Um, you're pretty?"

"Good start, good start. Can you think of a better, more sensual adjective?"

Mason squirms. "I… I don't know, nice?"

Dr. Bumby sighs. "No, Mason. We'll have to go back to aversion tomorrow. Here, Mirana, why don't you help him along? Come over here and kiss him."

"What?" they both yelp.

"Dr. Bumby, I don't think I can!" Mirana protests. The thought of touching anyone, let alone kissing them, sends bile rising from her stomach. She struggles to push it down.

"I don't want her to!" Mason cries.

"Enough!" Dr. Bumby bellows, and both patients shrink back. "Enough. I'm trying to help both of you. The least you can do is cooperate." He takes a deep breath, calming himself. Now, Mirana, if you please."

Mason's eyes are pleading with her, but Mirana does her best to ignore them. She has to do this. She has to be cured. Yet as she gets closer to him, she finds herself dreading the moment.

She swallows hard, grabs his face, squeezes her eyes shut, and smashes her lips to his. Already she can feel Mason freezing under her touch, and the guilt tears at her heart, but she shoves it down, knowing that this is for their own good. She kisses him harder, trying to feel something, anything other than pain and disgust. When she finally pulls back, she finds that they're both crying. Before she can stop herself, she mouths "I'm sorry" to Mason. He nods. He understands, but he hates it.

Dr. Bumby sighs heavily. "No, no, no. Here, Mason. Let me show you how it's done."

Show him how it's _—_?

Before Mirana realizes what it means, Dr. Bumby has her in his arms. He kisses her forcefully, thrusting his tongue in her mouth. His facial hair scratches at her face, and his tongue tastes like cherry medicine. It's a sickening combination. Everything in her is screaming at her to run, to pull away, to shove him off, to hit him, hurt him, but she cannot move. She stands, stiff as a board, as his hands roam, pawing at her breasts. She prays for it to end soon.

She prays for death.

Finally, after what seems to be an eternity, Dr. Bumby is thrown back, away from her. Mirana crumples to the floor, relieved and yet broken at the same time. She feels disgusting, dirty, but she knows no amount of showering will wash his unwanted touch off her. She wants out of her body, to be anybody else, anywhere else. Hot, fresh tears stream down her cheeks, yet through her blurry vision, she can see Mason run after Dr. Bumby, fist raised. Mason had saved her, but she cannot feel gratitude now. All she feels is pain and sickness and despair.

Dr. Bumby flings Mason back as easily as if he were a rag doll. The boy howls and curls into himself. "Foolish boy!" he snarls. "I'm curing you, and this is the thanks I get?"

Mason raises his head, grey eyes darkening with rage. "You didn't even warn her! That's not fair!"

"It was merely a demonstration, designed to educate you!"

"Demonstration? Educate me?" Mason picks himself up off the floor. "That was sick and wrong! You know, all this time, you've been telling me I'm the one who's sick! I'm the one who's got something wrong with me!"

"You are!"

"No! It's you!" Mason jabs an accusatory finger at Dr. Bumby. "You're the one who's sick! You're the one who's _—_!"

 _SLAP!_

Mason collapses but this time doesn't get up again. Dr. Bumby circles him. "You're worse off than I thought. We'll have to intensify the aversion, starting today." He grabs Mason by the scruff of his neck and begins to drag him away. "Very good, Mirana. I'll be the one handling your encouragement tomorrow. Alone."

The praise falls on deaf ears, but the promise tears her apart. She can't live through this. She's incurable.

Her eyes come to rest on the paper thin blanket. Just enough to make a noose, if she wants.

Mirana Marmoreal Underland, once purer than snow.

Now, she drowns in darkness, a thick tar pouring down her throat, choking her.


	9. Into the Mouth of the Beast

**9**

"So how did you know about Rutledge?" Tarrant asks.

Alice touches her freshly cut hair for about the thousandth time that day. It feels so strange since Bayard had sheared off her long mane, and she's still getting used to it. "My aunt sent me there when I was younger without my parents' knowledge. I managed to escape after a weeklong stay and tell them everything. We got a restraining order against her the day after. She was also the one that sent me to that Catholic school." She looks at the spread laid out in front of her on her bed. "Is all this really necessary? It's been years since they last saw me."

"Bumby never forgets. Take my word for it."

Alice begins to put on the outfit with Tarrant respectfully turned the other way — a baggy white graphic tee, faded blue jeans, a black jacket, and a baseball cap. "Remind me again how we're doing this. I don't want anything to go wrong."

"Getting out of school will be easy." Tarrant says, throwing a few more things into his bag. "There are no gates to keep us in. We'll be taking my car, since you don't have one. Once we get there, you're going to introduce yourself as Alan Ratcliffe, a chosen suitor sent by Mirana's parents, Genevieve and Prosper. The name will be enough to get you into the door, but do you still have the letter just in case?"

Alice pulls on the jeans and retrieves the letter from her pillow, closed with the official Underland seal. Not a single step had been overlooked in that regard, from Thackery agreeing to forge it from the sample of Genevieve Underland's writing Alice found in her welcome letter, —handwriting always fascinated him, all those delightful loops— to the wax seal Alice had convinced Iracebeth to let her borrow. The Red Queen is now under the impression that Alice is a valuable asset to her and gives her a little more leniency on these things.

"Got it. You can turn around now, Tarrant." She fits the cap on her head and finds that she actually quite likes the way it looks. She may keep it after all this is over. "When did Mally say she was coming over?"

"About five minutes." Tarrant looks the envelope over, checking to make sure it still retains its pristine quality. "You should practice your voice."

Alice grimaces. Out of everything, that has to be the most difficult bit of the plan so far. She still hasn't worked out something that sounds like something in between the deep voice she's got going and her perfectly average higher pitched voice. She begins warming it up with a low hum.

"Anyway, once you're in, escort Mirana out. Don't talk to anyone, don't look at anyone, and do _not_ bring anyone else with you. After that, you'll have to fill out some discharge papers, but as long as you stay as far from Bumby as you possibly can, you should be alright. Do not, by any means, speak with him unless you must, and keep it brief. I'll be waiting for you outside. Simple." Tarrant pauses, listening. "Less in your nose and more in your throat." Alice adjusts accordingly. "Better."

 _Rap, rap, rap!_

"That would be Mally." Tarrant says, zipping up his bag. "Would you get that?"

Alice nods and goes to the door. Mally stands in the doorway with a rather large makeup bag and a small mirror. She gives Alice a once over, looking her up and down. "Yes, I can work with this." she says cheerily. Despite the gravity of the situation, the new project clearly excites her. "I'll carve out your cheeks and jaw, then fill in those brows, because, sorry, love, you haven't got much of those." She bounces into the room and plops down onto Alice's bed. "Sit." she says, patting the mattress.

Alice crosses over and seats herself in front of Mally, forcing herself to keep absolutely still, forbidding herself to fidget even the slightest bit. Mally pulls out a pallet of flesh tones, "a contour set", as she explained it earlier.

It becomes a bit more difficult to stay still when Mally actually begins, smearing a liquid skin tone base all over her face before proceeding to beat her with what could only be described as a bright pink styrofoam ball. This is apparently called blending, but Alice calls it irksome. Mally has to keep pulling her face forward because of how often she flinches back. The powder of the same colour is slightly better, the brush soft against her face as it spreads it all over. Mally soon switches to a different brush and begins to define Alice's cheekbones with a darker colour. Alice, for her part, runs her lines in her head in an attempt to distract herself.

 _Hello, I'm here to pick-up Mirana Underland. My name is Alan Ratcliffe. I'm Mirana's betrothed. Mrs. Genevieve Underland sent me with a letter._

Alice frowns. No, scratch that last part unless it becomes necessary. She's got a script to follow with the front desk, but she hasn't the slightest clue what she's going to say to Mirana when she actually sees her.

 _Mirana, I'm here to rescue you._

No, no. Dead giveaway. There's at least one camera in every room at the asylum.

 _Mirana, I am your betrothed, here to take you home._

That will scare her off for sure. Who knows what they've done to her in there?

 _Mirana, you're coming home with me._

Worse still.

 _Mirana, you're leaving here._

That will do. That promises escape, freedom, which she undoubtedly wants by now.

Her thoughts are interrupted by Mally turning her face towards Tarrant. "What do you think?" Mally asks. "Should I add facial hair, or is she fine like this?"

Tarrant takes a look at her. "Better add some just to be safe." he says.

Mally turns her towards her once again. "I'll add some scruff under her chin to look natural."

"When do I get to see?" Alice asks, a bit impatient at all the head turning and the brushes and the powders and not being able to talk during the process.

"After this." Mally promises, picking up a wiry looking sponge and dabbing it in yet another powder compact. "Now, for God's sake, Alice, hold still!"

"I haven't been moving that much!"

"I disagree. Come on now. There."

Alice endures another ten minutes of Mally shoving sponges in her face before she declares Alan Ratcliffe to be finished.

"Have a look at yourself, _Alan_."

Alice takes the mirror from her, half-expecting to resemble something closer to a drag king with all the makeup caked on her face.

Her reflection startles her. If she were anyone else, she would not recognize the person in the mirror. Her eyes have been hollowed out more, her cheekbones are noticeably sharper, and her jawline is well cut. The facial hair is extremely convincing, scruffy enough to look natural but not so that it looks wild and unkempt. In this moment, Alan Ratcliffe is a real person.

"Thank you, Mally." Alice says with a smile.

"No problem." Mally takes her hand. "Bring her back safe, won't you? We need her. We miss her."

Alice nods. "I promise." She glances over at Tarrant, who is typing something into his phone. "Are you ready to go?" she asks in her new voice. It sounds passable, at least.

He shoves it into his pocket. "Yes, I was just putting in the address. Let's be off."

* * *

The drive to Rutledge is fairly short. Alice doesn't know whether to be relieved or disturbed that the asylum is so close to the school.

The building itself is exactly as she remembers it from all those years ago. Massive, black iron gates guard an imposing brown brick building that comes to two pointed roofs on the left and right towers. In the middle wall diving the two are seven crosses cut out from stone. The windows, though sparse, are long, arched and narrow. Above the door of the same arched design as the windows are the words "Rutledge Asylum" secured across two twin rock pillars in rusted silver that may have once seen better days. In an attempt to brighten up the place, there are white daisy bushes lining the stone pathway leading to the asylum's porch. All that achieves, however, is making the building appear more dull and grayish than it already is.

Alice is not looking forward to going back in, but Mirana's in there, and she's not leaving without her.

Tarrant parks relatively close to the entrance, slowing the bright orange buggy to a stop before putting it in park. He didn't say a word to her the entire ride there, his body growing tenser and tenser as they neared the asylum. Now, he's rigid as a board. Despite this, he manages a half-hearted smile.

"Fairfarren, Alice." he says.

"Fairfarren." Alice says, returning his smile. She hugs him tightly before stepping out of the car.

As she walks down the path to the very place she escaped long ago, memories begin to resurface of her brief time in her own personal hell. She'd only been ten years old at the time.

 _Imogene Kingsleigh, a forty-one year old woman half out of her mind, is completely and utterly convinced that she is doing right by God, and by her niece, Alice. She drags said niece by her wrist and into her car, belting her to the front seat in a mess of flailing limbs and a blue silk dress._

" _Aunt Imogene, you still haven't told me where we're going!" young Alice wails. "I was going to go see Rory today!"_

" _Rory is a sick little girl, and she's made you sick too, I can see it." Imogene says. "I'm taking you to the man that made me all better so you can be all better too."_

 _Alice pouts. "But I don't feel sick. I want to go back inside!"_

" _Quiet, you." Imogene hisses. "You'll wake the neighborhood." She closes the passenger side door and reenters on the driver's side. "Of course you don't feel sick." The keys go into the ignition, and with a turn, the car roars to life. "This is the sort of sickness that you don't start feeling until it's too late. If I can be cured, then so can you."_

 _Alice sits back in her seat, folding her arms. She does not like this at all, but there is little she can do to get out of the situation. "Will you take me home after?" she asks._

 _Imogene pulls out of the driveway. "Yes, Alice. If you behave."_

Alice had not behaved, not at all. When she found out where exactly Aunt Imogene was taking her, she'd made a run for it. Aunt Imogene, with the help of the orderlies, had, of course, caught her, and they had taken her to the nearest room and locked her in. They didn't let her out for two days, no matter how much she screamed her throat raw. Alice had learned then to be patient and pick her battles wisely. Though the orderlies withheld food from her and only allowed Dr. Bumby to bring it to her, Alice saw right through that tactic and snuck out on her own whenever they occasionally let her out after the initial two day lockdown. To hell with them if they thought they'd trick her into thinking Bumby was her friend. She'd even established a sort of survival routine.

Up to that point, she had been fine. That was before they started the aversion therapy.

Ten years old, and they'd made her watch lesbian porn and whipped her for it. Alice sported long, red stripes across her back, which they'd let heal for a day or two before they started reopening them again. It was then that Alice made her escape, in a trash bin, no less. After that, she'd found the nearest phone and called her parents to come get her. Upon learning of what Imogene and the asylum had done to her, they'd put a restraining order on her aunt and shut the place down. It reopened years later, but as far as her parents were concerned, Alice was safe from it, and that was all that mattered.

The scars on her back seem to burn once more when Alice turns the doorknob. She imagines Mirana with similar stripes across her perfect skin. Her free hand clenches into a fist, and she has to force herself to calm down. With the letter in hand, she steps inside.

The receptionist barely pays her any mind, and Alice has to rap her knuckles on the table three times to get her attention. She gives Alice an unusually sunny smile. It's a little disconcerting, since the receptionist Alice dealt with seven years ago looked like he'd just dragged himself from his grave.

"Hello, dear. Come to check yourself in?"

"Um, no, actually." she says. "I'm Alan Ratcliffe." she quickly adds, sticking out her hand for the receptionist to shake.

The receptionist warms even more, leaving her hand to linger longer than Alice is comfortable with. "A Ratcliffe, did you say? What brings one of the most powerful names into our lovely establishment?"

"Early discharge for one of your patients." Alice tries to ignore the look the receptionist is giving her. Does she really look this good as a man? She pushes the thought aside and presents the letter. "I have a letter from her mother."

The receptionist takes it, letting her fingers just barely brush Alice's. It takes all Alice's self- control not to yank her hand back The woman must be at least in her late forties. She receptionist breaks the seal and reads the letter over. "Oh, I see. Mirana Marmoreal Underland." She taps something into the computer. "She's not due for release for another two weeks, doctor's orders. However," she glances at the letter and frowns, looking suddenly disappointed. "The seal does override our records." she says reluctantly. She stands up, putting the letter aside, and walks around the desk to Alice. "Follow me." She leads Alice down the hall, grumbling about how all the rich eligible bachelors are always taken and she'll never get out of this dump, never.

Walking down the hall is nearly enough to make Alice jump out of her skin and run out screaming. The orderlies lumber about like zombies in the same dirty scrubs, and a cacophony of screaming can be heard echoing, bouncing from wall to wall. The few patients she does see appear drained, watching her with sad, empty eyes. One little blonde girl reminds her so much of herself that Alice has to force herself to look straight ahead.

They finally arrive at Mirana's room. Alice, remembering her costume, allows the orderly in first. She follows close behind, and finds a sight that rips the heart from her chest.

Mirana is curled up on a pathetic excuse for a mattress, lying stiff, dull brown eyes fixed on a camera mounted high up in the corner of a wall. Her fingers toy idly with a loose thread dangling off her pillow. Her wrists are wrapped in heavy gauze, and her once cream coloured silky hair is matted and dry, unkempt, dark brown roots making an appearance for the first time. Her eyes are red, dark circles carved underneath. They don't seem to register anyone in the room.

Alice rushes forward, overcome, wanting nothing more to envelop Mirana in her arms and kiss away the pain. Mirana finally sees her and instantly recoils, curling further into herself with a whimper. Alice feels a crack in her heart and kneels down beside the bed, putting herself in a more submissive position and hoping to appear less terrifying. She'd nearly forgotten that Mirana doesn't know she's here for her rescue.

"Mirana, this is Alan Ratcliffe, your _betrothed_." The orderly spits the last word, jealousy evident.

Mirana's eyes widen with alarm. "My what?"

Even though it is small and afraid, the sound of Mirana's voice brings a surge of joy to Alice. However, she needs Mirana alone to explain things. She can already see her starting to panic.

She turns to the orderly. "Would you give us a moment, please?"

The orderly huffs. "Of course." She leaves, but not before shooting Mirana a bitter glare.

Once the door closes, Mirana rolls as far away from Alice as possible, her back to her. The action hurts, but Alice can understand why. She switches back to her normal voice. "Mirana, it's me, Alice."

Mirana rolls back over. "Alice?"

Alice nods. "I'm disguised. I'm here to take you away."

Mirana's eyes narrow. She sits up, and then promptly launches herself at Alice, punching her as hard as she can, which really isn't very hard.

"You!" she snarls, voice shrill with rage. " _You_ put me in here! I'm in here because of _you_!"

She manages to land a particularly hard punch, which snaps Alice out of the shock that Mirana Underland is actually _punching_ her right now. "Ow! Hey, Mirana, listen to —"

Mirana slams a finger to her lips, stopping her punching assault. "No, _you_ listen to _me_. I was perfectly fine before _you_ came into my life, before _you_ started complicating things. Now I have to suffer here to fix myself!" She glares long and hard at Alice before collapsing against her chest, sobbing. Alice starts to put her arms around her to attempt to console her, but Mirana slaps her hands away, wincing.

"You don't have to suffer anymore." Alice says gently. "I have a letter that says you can leave this place."

"I'm not cured…" she sniffles.

Alice sighs. "Mirana, there's nothing wrong with you. I'll explain it to you later, but we've got to go now. Tarrant is waiting out front, and if anyone recognizes him, we'll be caught."

"Recognizes him?"

"We've both been here before, and he'll tell you the same thing I'm telling you now: this place doesn't cure anything. It hurts without healing. It kills sometimes too."

Mirana takes a shuddering breath. "Alright. Alright. But I'm still mad at you."

"Just play along until we leave. Then you can hit me as much as you'd like."

They get up, slowly, and leave the room together. The orderly is waiting, and Alice silently prays that she didn't hear anything that might compromise them. Mirana had been quite loud.

"Couple's spat?" the orderly asks, nearly sounding hopeful.

"It's all sorted now, right Mirana?" Alice says.

"Right."

Mirana doesn't look too convincing, but it'll have to do. The orderly's face falls once again.

They make it to the front desk, and the orderly starts a print for the discharge paperwork before disappearing into another room. When she comes back, she has Mirana's clothes sealed in a bag along with her phone. Mirana takes it, a little light returning to her eyes, and hugs it close to her chest. The papers finish printing and the orderly has Alice sign half, then has Mirana sign a page. The papers get stapled together and filed away, then the orderly tells them they're free to go. Everything is going perfectly.

"Mirana, what are you doing out here?"

The sound of Dr. Bumby's voice sends a familiar chill up Alice's spine. Mirana recoils into her but doesn't hold onto her at all.

"She's coming with me." Alice says, trying to sound authoritative.

"She's cleared, Angus." the orderly says. "Don't make me do any more paperwork."

Dr. Bumby's disappointment is clearly visible, but he doesn't address it. "Very well then, I su —"

"Mirana, take me with you!"


	10. Guardian Angels

**10**

Mason limps towards Mirana as fast as he can, but he trips over himself and nearly ends up faceplanting. Mirana catches him just in time, holding him to her. He feels so frail in her arms, and all she wants to do is protect him, but they both know she's powerless against Dr. Bumby.

Dr. Bumby laughs, but there's a hidden rage behind it. "Now, now, Mason. Go back to your room." There's no mistaking that all too familiar growl beneath that didactic tone.

Mason burrows further into Mirana. "No."

Dr. Bumby reaches them in two strides and pries Mason out of Mirana's grasp. Mirana holds on as much as she can, but it's no use. She's too weak to keep him in her arms. Tears begin to well up again. She barely feels Alice pull her to her feet and can't bring herself to recoil.

"We should be going." Alice tells Dr. Bumby in that stuffy voice that makes her sound congested more than anything.

Dr. Bumby's eyes linger on Alice for a moment before flickering away, back to Mason struggling in his grasp. "Right. Goodbye, Mirana." His smile sends bile racing up Mirana's throat, but she stops it. He drags Mason away, kicking and screaming.

Alice leads Mirana out of the hospital, and as she steps out into fresh air for the first time in nearly two weeks, she knows she should feel relieved, ecstatic that she's free. Yet the image of Mason running towards her, clinging to her for protection she cannot give, makes her feel worthless.

* * *

As soon as they leave the gates of the asylum, Mirana slips from Alice's grasp and begins walking mechanically towards the car, wrapping her arms around herself. The dull ache resurfaces. Mirana won't let her touch her. Mirana _hates_ her. She follows, feet feeling heavy as cinder blocks, and raps on the passenger side window. Tarrant shoots bolt upright with a start, having fallen asleep at the wheel, and hurriedly unlocks the doors. Alice climbs inside and buckles herself in.

"Mirana!" Tarrant cries. He reaches back to embrace her, but Mirana shrinks away just as before. She hasn't belted herself in either. Tarrant draws back, frowning. "I understand. But you're safe now. You're with us." Mirana says nothing, staring listlessly out the window. "Everyone misses you." Nothing. He tries again. "We can pick up some hair dye for you on the way back." She seems to brighten a little at this, but still no words pass from her lips. Tarrant twists back around and settles into the driver's seat. "Right, then. We'll stop at Selfridges."

They drive for a few minutes in uncomfortable silence. Alice fidgets in her seat, drumming her fingers on her knees and shifting every now and then. This goes on for a bit, until Mirana says:

"We have to go back for him."

The car jerks to a stop, flinging them all forward, but Tarrant manages to quickly recover and pull over to the side of the road.

Tarrant's knuckles are bone white. "Go… back?" he says through clenched teeth. "Go back?! Why?! For who?!"

"Mason." she says flatly.

"WHO'S MASON?!"

"Tarrant." Alice says, gripping his arm, trying to placate him. Tarrant breathes heavily through his nose, silently steaming. "He's a boy from the Asylum. When we were in the lobby, he ran up to Mirana and stayed until Bumby took him away."

His jaw still tightly locked, Tarrant manages to grind out, "We can't go back there. Not when we just got her away from that place." He yanks the gearshift into drive. "Sorry, Mirana. We can't risk it. Bumby knows my face."

"If you won't, I'll go back and get him myself."

"No!" Alice yelps.

"You don't control me, Alice!"

Tarrant lets his head fall against the horn, exasperated with both of them. Mirana claps her hands over her ears until Tarrant relents and sits up again.

Alice realizes what has to be done to begin to make up for everything she's caused Mirana. She doesn't like it, but if this will make her happy again, will bring her about to stability, then she must. "No, I don't." she says softly. "But you need to stay with Tarrant. I can't lose you again."

"But —!"

"Please." There's no masking the desperation in her voice, the need to keep Mirana as safe as she can. "I'll go back for him." Alice unlocks the passenger side. "Tarrant, take her back to the academy. I'll catch a bus back. Make sure Iracebeth doesn't see her. No one must know she's returning until we know what our next move is."

"Not you too." Tarrant groans. "I'm mad as a hat, but between you two I'm the only sane one."

"Tarrant, please." Alice says.

Tarrant sighs. "Alright, fine." He embraces her tightly, lingering a little. "Come back in one piece, okay?"

Alice grins. "No promises." Tarrant socks her arm a little too hard, making her wince. "Ow! Okay, I promise." She carefully steps out of the car, but Mirana's voice stops her.

"Alice?"

Alice looks back at Mirana, who stares down into her lap, playing with the hem of her tunic. "Yes?" she says, hoping with the dimmest hope that Mirana might have changed her mind, because going back into that nightmare house is truly madness.

"Thank you."

"No problem." Alice closes the passenger door behind her, and, after a final look back, begins to walk back to the asylum, dreading every step that carries her back to the place of her nightmares.

Because it is, indeed, a problem.

* * *

"Mr. Ratcliffe!" the receptionist cries, though she doesn't sound at all disappointed. "Back again so soon?"

Alice nods. "I need to see Mason as well."

"Oh, him?" the receptionist gives a dismissive gesture. "He's a hopeless case, don't bother with him. Says he's a pansexual, whatever that is. His problem's rooted deep."

"I'd still like to see him." Alice does her best to flash a charming smile. "Please."

The receptionist melts. "Well, alright."

She leads Alice down the hall, not as far as before, to Mason's room. She unlocks a series of locks, and the added security sends a sense of unease throughout Alice's body.

"Now, I don't know what you'll find in there." she says, unlocking the door for Alice. "He can be a bit unstable." She replaces the key onto a ring of similar ones Alice hadn't noticed before. "I know I can trust you, so I'll be up front."

"I'll be fine." Alice says, though whether she's reassuring the receptionist or herself, she can't be sure. Her hand closes on the handle, and she braces herself.

"I just don't understand, the girl clearly wasn't ready…"

Bumby! Alice darts into the room and slams the door shut, hoping the doctor didn't see her.

"Are you here to hurt me?" a small voice asks.

Mason. The boy appears to be curled up on the sorry excuse for a bed, hugging himself in an uncomfortable fetal position, but upon closer inspection Alice sees a chain clamped onto his ankle, the other end connected to one of the bed frame's rungs beneath the mattress. Alice's heart goes out to him, remembering being in a similar position once before but much younger than he is now. Back then, it was rope, not metal, that bound her to that terrible bed.

She leans over him and he whimpers, causing her to step back with her hands raised. "I'm here to get you out of here." she whispers, acutely aware of the camera watching them up above. She glances at the lock on the chain. "Do you know where the key is?"

"It's over there, on the floor. Dr. Bumby says it's to remind me that freedom is always near, if I earn it." He shudders, drawing further into himself. "Are you a friend of Mirana's?"

"Not important." Alice dodges the question. In truth, she has no idea anymore. All she can do is hope that this will set things right, if not repair their relationship completely. Relationship. She wants to laugh at herself for thinking that. If only. "We can't go out the front." she says quietly, retrieving the key from the floor and hoping the camera doesn't pick her up. Noticing his mottled skin and purpling blemishes, some more recent than others, she can't help her curiosity. "How long have you been here?" she asks.

"Three years." he says softly.

Alice curses under her breath, fitting the key into the lock and twisting to the left. The bolts within click open. Three years. "That must be awful." she says, not knowing what else to say. She slides the shackle off Mason's ankle.

"I'm glad to be free." He sits up and groans, rubbing at his ankle, which has a ring of purple around it. "Bless Mirana, and bless you." he says. "God sent me two angels at last." He smiles, but it's laced with the pain of a tortured soul.

Alice stops herself from laughing at him, but barely. "God?" she says, setting the key aside.

"Yes."

"After so long in this place, you still believe in God?"

"Yes."

Alice frowns. "Why?"

"Because He didn't let me die. I understand everything now." Mason slides off the bed and onto the balls of his feet, holding onto the mattress to steady himself. He looks up at her. "I know what Dr. Bumby does is wrong. I know that he believes that he is doing God's work. But I also know that even though there are some parts of you that God does not like, He will not stop loving you if you do not stop loving Him. That is why I can forgive Dr. Bumby." He lets go of the mattress. "But not now. Not until I'm far away from here."

As Alice walks Mason out of his prison, her mind wanders back to her very broken relationship with God. She'd always had mixed feelings about Him, and the clear conservative bias she'd lived with all her life certainly doesn't help.

Yet, for the first time, she feels that maybe, just maybe, God doesn't hate her as much as she thinks He does. After all, He had blessed her with Mirana's friendship, if not her love.

Maybe she'll ask for her rosary back from her mother when all this is over.

* * *

Ten minutes later she's riding the bus back with Mason to Underland Academy.

Mason had been afraid of even the slightest contact with Alice at first, but after nearly being caught by Bumby again he had clung to her instinctively.

Now he lies asleep with his head against her chest, arms hanging loosely around the neck of his "guardian angel". Alice is unsure of how to feel about the title, but if it makes him feel safer with her, then she'll let him call her that for as long as he wants.

They stop at a nearby charity shop. Alice needs him in normal clothes as soon as possible to lessen the stares they've been getting. She lets him pick out three outfits and he wears the first out — a blue long sleeved t-shirt with a smiling cartoon cloud in the center, jeans, a pair of white sneakers, and a black cap with some random rugby team's crest on the front. Mason's primary objective with the outfit is to cover himself completely, to snuggle himself in clothes that make him feel safe. While Mason had been changing, Alice had gone to the washroom and scrubbed the makeup off of her face. She's glad that her skin can finally breathe, but without the makeup she looks extremely butch. She's not quite sure how to feel about that. Mason's hospital gown, of course, had been shoved deep into the rubbish bin on the way out.

With his clothes covering the evidence of his time in the asylum, Mason looks almost normal. The only thing giving him away is his gaunt face, barely visible underneath the oversized ball cap.

Alice buys him a large order of fish and chips before they take their bus back to the school.

* * *

Mirana studies herself in the mirror. Her hair, freshly dyed and concealing her dark roots, is once again silky and smooth, loose waves cascading about her shoulders, some taken in to braid a crown around her head. The two showers she had taken hadn't been able to scrub away all the injuries she had received from Dr. Bumby, and so what she couldn't cover with her outfit — a floral white dress with long sleeves that barely brushes the floor when she walks — had been caked in ivory cream and powder several times over and then coated in setting spray. She looks like her old self again, and though it is comforting in a way, she also notices that her mask is even thicker, stronger than before, much like herself. She is ready to face Iracebeth when the time comes. She tightens the fresh gauze on her wrists, feeling a little better.

The door opens and Mirana flinches, but it's just Alice and Mason.

Mason.

They run towards each other at the same time, Mirana enveloping Mason in her arms. He's safe. He's safe! She realizes belatedly that she's crying, but she doesn't care, hugging him tightly, reassuring herself that he's still here.

"Alice is right." Mason mumbles happily into her shoulder. "You _do_ look like a queen."

Mirana raises an eyebrow at Alice, who is now blushing furiously. Alice scuffs the floor with her shoe, staring intently at her laces. "I mean, you do." she says sheepishly. "You can't tell me you don't. Everyone else thinks so too."

Mirana giggles, and for the first time in a while, feels a rush of fondness for Alice as she had once before. And then it hits her. Alice brought Mason back to her. She releases Mason and smiles at him, gripping his shoulders, before moving over to Alice. She reaches out, hesitantly at first, before embracing her chastely. She steps back before Alice can return it, not ready for that yet.

"I'm still mad at you." she says firmly.

Mason frowns. "Why are you mad at her?"

"Because she's the one who got me into this mess." she says matter-of-factly.

Alice groans. "Not this again."

Mirana scowls. "Yes, this again!" Familiar rage pours through her as she remembers. "You know bloody well what you did!"

Alice sighs. "I'm sorry I told you how I feel, but honestly, that shouldn't have made you check yourself into an _insane_ asylum."

"Hang on." Mason cuts in. "You checked yourself in?" he asks Mirana.

"Yes." Mirana folds her arms.

"Wouldn't that mean you would have had to return Alice's feelings, then?"

Now Mirana's face flushes, the heat burning her cheeks. "I —"

"What?" Alice yelps.

"It doesn't matter!" Mirana recovers. "It's wrong and I won't entertain it!"

Yet unbidden, memories resurface once again. Art class. Walking together down the grassy paths. Her lips captured in that searing kiss. And that recurring thought.

 _I wish she would kiss me again_.

"It's not wrong." Mason says. "Mirana, look at me." Mirana glances over at him and sees him gazing at her earnestly. "Trust me, there's nothing wrong with you."

"But God —"

"Loves you. Do you really think that what Dr. Bumby was doing to you was God's work?"

The name sends bile racing up her throat, and she realizes that Mason is right. And then she realizes that Mason essentially just revealed her old feelings toward Alice _to_ Alice. Old feelings that are now confusing and muddled. There's too much to sort through now to know for sure.

"This is a lot to take in." she says honestly. "I need to lie down and think for a while."

* * *

After getting Mason settled in with Bayard and Tarrant, Alice finally has a moment to lie down and relax. The events of the day had taken up most of her school day, and she really sees no point in going to class for the rest of the day.

Mirana is sitting at her desk, catching herself up on the homework she'd missed, smuggled in courtesy of Tarrant. They'd decided to keep Mirana's return a secret for a little longer and meet about everything tomorrow to give her the rest of the day to rest. She hasn't said a word to Alice ever since Mason left, and she doesn't look like she's going to any time soon. She stretches her legs out on her bed. The silence is slowly killing her.

They have to talk.

"Mirana?"

"Mmm?"

Alice stares idly at the ceiling, trying to find the right words to start. Then she gives up trying to choose the right words because there are none. "How do you feel about me now?"

Mirana sighs. "I still don't know, Alice." She turns in her chair, finally facing her. "You try hearing one thing all your life is wrong, and then suddenly it's okay, and you don't know whether to hate yourself for being so stupid or the people who lied to you in the first place."

Alice chuckles. "I'm sure everyone who's been to Dr. Bumby's has felt the same." There's another bit of silence. Then, Alice asks another terrifying question. "How did you feel when I kissed you?"

Mirana colours again, the rouge of her cheeks barely visible beneath all that powder she's got on. "Surprised, at first." she says. "But after all I wanted was for you to do it again." She tips her head down, eyes trained on her hands folded in her lap. "That's what made me check myself in."

Alice hardly dares to hope, but after everything she's been through today, she might as well try. "Do you think it would help you make sense of things if I kissed you now?" she asks tentatively.

Mirana hesitates, then gets up from her chair and sits at the foot of Alice's bed.

"You can try."

Alice sits up. Mirana hadn't told her everything that had happened to her in the asylum, but something in her tells her that she needs to be slow, gentle. A feeling of protectiveness curls around her heart for Mirana. This isn't a matter of wanting her anymore. This is love, and she hopes that Mirana's felt it too, and that she can bring that feeling back for her.

She cups her face in her hands, stroking her cheeks with her thumbs. She searches Mirana's eyes for any signs of fear or disgust and finds them strangely unreadable.

"Is this okay?" she asks, wanting Mirana to be very sure.

"Yes."

The word comes out a breathy whisper, but Alice hears it all the same. She leans in slowly, close enough to feel Mirana's breath against her lips, her sweet, vanilla bean scent making her feel a little dizzy so close, giving her all the time in the world for her to tell her to stop, to tell her no, until finally, finally, she closes the distance between them. She brushes her lips over Mirana's, a ghost of a kiss, just a taste of that tart, black cherry lipstick, then a little firmer. Her lips caress Mirana's soft, luscious petals, telling her every word she's afraid to say out loud as Mirana slowly begins to reciprocate, her delicate hands coming to rest on Alice's shoulders, sending a fire racing throughout her body.

 _I love you, I love you, I love you_.

Mirana pulls away first and Alice has to hold back a whimper at the loss of contact. She keeps her hands on her shoulders, leaning her forehead against hers. It takes all of Alice's self-control not to start kissing her again, not wanting to push Mirana's boundaries. She licks her lips out of habit, tasting that cherry lipstick once again. She needs to know.

"Well?" she asks breathlessly.

"I'm still not entirely sure." she says softly. "It didn't feel… wrong, though."

It's not much, but Alice will take it. Maybe this will be the beginning of something truly wondrous.


	11. Double Agent

**11**

Alice wakes the next morning to a pile of papers on her desk and an empty dorm room. She sits up and stretches, cracking her back a little with a satisfying snap of bone. The clock reads 8:30. Damn. Well, at least it's only Astronomy. Professor Alden can sod off for all she cares. She sighs when she sees the size of the pile. She'd just gotten herself caught up. On top, there's a blue sticky note from Tarrant. The message is brief.

 _Iracebeth knows. Talk later._

 _T_

Shit.

She crumples the note and tosses it into her wastebin before stripping out of yesterday's clothes. She needs a shower to wash off the dirt and grime of simply spending any time at the asylum at all.

The hot water rains down on her skin, rolling off her shoulders, down her back, peppering her face. She massages shampoo and conditioner into her hair, letting the tension drain from her, at least for a moment. After a few minutes the water starts to run cold, reminding her that she has to get on with her day.

She towels off, taking considerably less time now that she's got shorter hair, and pulls on a pair of jeans and a shirt Iracebeth had given her a few days ago — a black long sleeved shirt with a red collar, button line, and cuffs. It's meant to help her fit in with her gang — they all have some form of red and black on their person at all times. This means that she can't wear her favorite jacket over it, which annoys her to no end. Unfortunately, as of yesterday, Tarrant still wants Alice to play along with Iracebeth. Mirana, of course, has no idea, but Alice will have to tell her eventually. The last thing she needs is for Mirana to think that she's betrayed her… again.

God, Mirana. While their kiss had left her wanting more, the way it had made her feel both shocks and excites her. She didn't think she'd fall for her so fast and so soon, and now here she is, head over heels. At first, she'd thought she'd be stiff like the first time, but then she started kissing back, so unsure, yet so willing. The way her soft skin felt under her fingertips, cupped in her hands, her lips moving, molding against hers like a long lost puzzle piece, her vanilla scent sending a heady feeling rushing to her brain.

She wonders if Mirana will ever feel the same.

One thing's for sure: Bumby needs to pay for what he's done.

* * *

Alice slides into History class, barely caught up, and makes to sit in the back with Tarrant and Mally, but Iracebeth flags her down first.

"Alice! Come here!"

Alice reluctantly walks over to her table, opposite from her friends, and tries to hide the grimace that threatens to take over her face. She keeps her eyes trained on the floor and takes the suddenly empty seat next to Iracebeth. A particularly scrawny senior gets off the floor. Alice tries to mouth an apology, but he just flips her off.

"Traitor!" Mally yells.

Alice's ears burn with embarrassment, but she says nothing, unable to look up at anyone right now.

"Miss Pawel, please!" their history professor pipes up. "We are in a classroom setting!"

"But Iracebeth —" Mally protests.

"Mally," Tarrant cuts in gently. "Let it go."

Mally lets out a hiss through her teeth but doesn't say another word.

No, Tarrant had clearly told no one that this is all a facade.

"Thank you, Mr. Hightopp." the history professor says. "Now, I'd like you all to take out your textbooks…"

"I can't believe she's back." Iracebeth grumbles. "I heard somebody busted her out."

Alice glances over at Mirana, and their eyes meet across the room. Mirana's dark eyes widen with confusion, then shine with hurt. Alice tries to tell her with her eyes that this isn't what it looks like, but it's no use. Mirana opens her book, raising her eyes every now and then when the professor makes to write something on the board. Her heart clenches. She's got to talk to her.

"It doesn't matter anyway." Iracebeth says, disturbing Alice's thoughts. "I've got total control. No one is going to even think of defying me as long as I've got the Bandersnatch and my precious Jabberwocky."

Alice raises an eyebrow. "What about Stayne?"

"Oh, yes, he's useful. He did give me the best advice the other day."

Curious, she asks, "What was it?"

"It is far better to be feared than than loved. Don't you think that's the best advice?"

"Ye-es." she forces out.

Iracebeth twists in her chair so she's facing Alice fully. "My colours suit you well. I'm pleased you joined the right side. However, I only keep useful people. Getting rid of Mirana was genius, of course, but now that she's back I don't see what else you can do for me." She pouts her lips and looks at Alice expectantly. "So?"

"So… what?"

Iracebeth scoffs. "Do I have to spell it out for you? What can you do for me _now_?"

Shit shit shit! Alice hasn't really thought that far ahead. She'd assumed that once she brought Mirana back she'd be able to stop this fraternization. Tarrant had better have come up with a better plan by break, but until then Iracebeth's expectant expression reminds her that she still has to come up with a decent response.

"Anything you want?" she offers.

Iracebeth smiles, and Alice gives a mental sigh of relief. "That's what I like to hear." she says.

They spend the rest of class in silence, Iracebeth texting her gang and Alice pretending to follow along in the textbook, fiddling with her fingers, anxious to get to Mirana and Tarrant as soon as possible.

* * *

They end up in the library. It seems the safest place to meet after Alice had given Iracebeth the slip.

Mirana arrives first, gliding to Alice's table with the grace of an angel, as usual. She gives Alice a mournful look but says nothing, sitting a chair away from her. Well, now's as good a time as any.

"Mirana, this morning, it wasn't what it looked like." she begins.

Mirana refuses to look directly at her. "You wear my sister's colours and go to her side when she calls you. Tell me what that was, exactly, if not a blatant declaration of your allegiance to her."

"First off, that is the only red and black I own. I wasn't even the one who bought it." Alice points out. "Second, I would never do that to you. Your sister needs to think I'm on her side for a little while, at least until we figure out our next moves." Mirana remains impassive. Alice decides to take a chance and lightly covers Mirana's hand with her own. Mirana gives her a quizzical look. "I," _love you_. "Care about you very much, Mirana. I promise you, no matter what it looks like, I will always be on your side."

Mirana hesitates, then turns her hand over to give Alice's a gentle squeeze, the tiniest smile appearing on her face. "I'm sorry, Alice." She pulls away, and Alice immediately misses the warmth. "It's just… difficult sometimes. Walking down these halls, everyone with their heads down while the Bandersnatch and the Jabberwocky terrorize everyone." Mirana peers over at her. "What kind of names are those anyway? They seem a bit silly, really."

"I think they're meant to be from a poem." Alice muses, remembering her mural. Funny, the creature she'd once idolized now takes a human form.

"How do you know?"

"I read a lot of Lewis Carroll." she admits. "At my old school, I actually added Jabberwockies to a mural of Noah's arc."

"Alice!" Mirana gasps.

"Yeah, well, they expelled me. That's how I got here." Alice laughs. "Justice, right?"

"I suppose." But she's smiling. Alice can see it in her eyes, even though she keeps her lips pressed to to the top of her hands.

Tarrant arrives then, out of breath and gripping his shoulder. He collapses into the chair between Alice and Mirana, panting.

"What happened to you?" they ask him.

"Bloody Bandersnatch!" he bellows. There's a small chorus of shushes, to which Tarrant rolls his eyes and obnoxiously shushes them in return, spraying Alice's sleeve with spittle. Regardless, he drops his volume. "Foond me in th' close an' grabbed me. Tauld me Bloody Big Heed wants a hat gart fur 'er. Weel ah said, it'll be a braw day in Hell afair ah hat 'at monstroos sair. He didne loch 'at, naturally. Gae me a solid blaw oam mah arm. Woold've given me mair tay, if thaur wasnae teacher roond th' corner. Dobber, ah swear, when ah fin' heem I'll —"

"Tarrant!" Alice grips his arm tightly, bringing him back to reality.

He slumps over in his seat, but the burning rage in his eyes has dissipated significantly. "I'm fine." he mutters.

"Let me see, Tarrant." Mirana says, rolling up the sleeve of his rainbow striped long sleeve. Her eyes widen. Already, the angry red mark is darkening, a stark contrast against his pale skin. "Tarrant, you need to go to the nurse!"

Tarrant rolls his eyes. "For what? A bruise? There are others who're getting a lot worse than I did. That's why we're here: to talk about our next move." He pushes the sleeve back down and tugs his arm away from Mirana. "Alice, Iracebeth doesn't suspect a thing?"

"No."

"Good. That's the way we need it, for now."

"I'm not exactly sure what I'm meant to be doing." Alice admits. "I thought once we brought Mirana back I wouldn't have to do this anymore."

"You might. It may be our only chance to bring her down."

Mirana starts. "Bring her down? This is my sister you're talking about!"

"Who wouldn't hesitate to do the same to you, if given the chance." Tarrant points out. "She's already dismantled most of your work. Taking her side has become vital to survival, and anyone else who's still loyal to you is in hiding. Alice acting as our double agent is our best bet."

"You've got a plan already, then?" Alice asks.

"A vague one of a sort." Tarrant says. "While you're getting information, I'm going to try and find anyone else who isn't wearing red and black." He looks at Alice, then quickly adds, "No offense."

Alice shrugs. "None taken. What sort of information am I looking for?"

"I know my sister. She's not much of a threat on her own." Mirana says, leaning past Tarrant to talk to her. "It's all these men she surrounds herself with. It's how she protects herself. If you can dismantle that, then I'm sure we can reason with her."

"Reason with her?" Tarrant bunches his fingers into fists. "She tortures freshmen for fun, Mirana."

"It's just her way of feeling strong." Mirana says, still insisting on defending her sister. "She's really insecure underneath all that, I'm sure of it."

Alice sighs. "I don't know how you can still defend her."

"No matter what Racie may do, I will always love her." Mirana says firmly. "Nothing will change that."

"That thinking right there," Tarrant says. "That thinking, is why we need to get you back into power."

* * *

Alice meets Iracebeth for lunch. Avoiding her once was hard enough. Twice, and she'd start looking suspicious.

Still, that doesn't stop her from looking wistfully over to where Tarrant, Mally, Thackery, and Mirana are sitting, all huddled together. Nivens had gone home to recover, but there are doubts as to whether or not he'll come back. Chess is nowhere in sight, and neither is Bayard. They must be the few that are hiding, waiting everything out. The dining hall is a sea of red and black, broken up by a small section of white.

Well, except for one pair of twins.

Tommy and Timmy Dee sit beside Alice. She's surprised to see them there, wearing matching red jumpers and black corduroys. She hadn't really paid them any mind since she'd first met them in the beginning of the year.

"Hello, Alice!" they say cheerfully in unison.

"Er, hello." She turns to Iracebeth. "They sit with you? I thought they didn't have a side."

"I told them it was the smart thing to do." Iracebeth whispers to her. She eats a bite off the spoonful of chocolate pudding Stayne's been feeding her for the past ten minutes. "It was so easy to convince them."

The Bandersnatch arrives then, dragging the Jabberwocky with him, who is currently fighting to break free of him. It looks like a bear trying to restrain a snake, and the bear is currently losing, badly.

"Let go, Bandersnatch!" the Jabberwocky snarls.

"It's not worth it!" the Bandersnatch growls back. "You almost got caught last time! The place is crawling with staff right now!" He wrestles him onto the bench and gives Iracebeth a pleading look. "Your Majesty, tell him to stop!"

Iracebeth fixes the Jabberwocky with a cold glare, and he immediately stills. She rewards him with a malicious smile, then digs into her bag and produces a Jelly Baby. "Good boy." she says, pushing it to his lips. He tears it from her hand and grins at her, that hopelessly devoted gleam in his eyes once again with the gummy in his teeth.

Alice feels sick. To see her treating her friends like animals… if they can even be considered friends. They're more like her subjects, her guard dogs. Unbidden, a wave of pity washes over her. They don't deserve this.

She quickly snaps herself out of it. No, they're awful. They beat up everyone who disagrees with the Red Queen, and even if they don't, they'll still find a reason to hurt someone. She notices the dried blood on the Bandersnatch's knuckles and the fresh drops smeared across the Jabberwocky's and fights the urge to slam them both on the table and beat them into submission. They deserve it, after all they've done.

The Jabberwocky notices her looking and flicks his tongue out at her, like a serpent. Alice doesn't know whether to laugh or be disgusted. "So, you're still here?"

Alice holds her own, meeting his eyes with her own challenging stare. "Yes, I am. Did you think I'd go away?"

"Just remember where your loyalties lie." he grumbles, digging into his plate, which consists mostly of fish.

"Of course she does." the Bandersnatch says, stacking his meat onto his fork. "She's wearing the colours, isn't she?"

The Bandersnatch, of all people, sticking up for her. Hmm. Maybe Alice'll start with him.

"It's been —"

"So long —"

"Alice."

"How are —"

"You?" The twins finish. It's a bit like watching a tennis match, but instead of seeing the ball going back and forth you're hearing it.

Iracebeth cackles. "Oh, they're so funny." she says before Alice can answer. "I love my Fat Boys."

"I'm fine, thank you." Alice raises an eyebrow. "Fat Boys?"

"Everyone here has a new name." Stayne says, as if he's explained this a thousand times before. "Which brings me to the question: what's yours?"

Alice frowns. "Um…"

"Um?" Iracebeth furrows her brow. "I suppose that could work."

"Um?" Stayne starts laughing. "Your name is Um? You're a joke, Alice. Might as well admit it now."

Iracebeth swats his arm, leaving a red mark. "Quiet, you!" She thinks for a moment. "Um. Yes. That adds a bit of uncertainty."

"Clever —"

"Really clever —"

"Really, really, clever —"

"That's enough!" Iracebeth shouts, halting the twins. "Too much of that and you'll give me a headache." The twins hang their heads in shame, and the Bandersnatch smothers a chortle.

Um. Well, now she's stuck with it. Great move, Kingsleigh. She straightens her collar, trying to distract herself from this latest embarrassment. "So, any of you want to fill me in?"

"On what?" The Jabberwocky rips apart his fish with his fork. "We're already sorted. I still don't know why you're even here."

"She did what the three of you _combined_ failed to do." Iracebeth says while Stayne dabs her face with a napkin. "You've no room to talk."

The Jabberwocky grumbles into his fish but doesn't retort.

"I'll fill her in." the Bandersnatch says. "We've taken over most of the school, as you can see." he says, gesturing at what has now become, essentially, a uniform. "But there are still others that we need to convert. Our Queen wants total submission. Mirana will be forced to concede defeat before prom even happens."

"But prom's not for another —" Alice starts to count, but Iracebeth cuts her off.

"Eight months. Yes, I know, Um." she says with a dismissive gesture. Alice tries not to reel at the sound of her new name. "But I _need_ to secure that scholarship as soon as possible. If I get it now, it means Mirana will have to suffer for eight months knowing that I've won, and she won't be able to lie her way out of it this time."

The Bandersnatch produces a list. "These are all we have left. Seventeen in total, which isn't much considering how many go here."

Alice takes a look at his blocky scrawl, which has several lines through most of the names. There are only six she recognizes, and three that sound vaguely familiar. Tarrant's name is at the top of the list, written as Hatter, horribly misspelled.

"Why is the Hatter's name at the top of the list?" she asks.

"Because _Um_ ," Stayne says, clearly lording it over her head that she's stuck with perhaps the worst alias ever. "He's Mirana's biggest ally. He'll never admit it, but it's so obvious. If we can take him out, the rest will follow, and we won't have to waste so much time _hunting everyone down individually_."

That last bit is a clear dig at the Bandersnatch and the Jabberwocky, but if they realize that, they certainly don't show it.

* * *

Alice manages to survive the rest of her classes, the new information weighing upon her heavily. What they're after is simple — Tarrant. With all of them presumably working together, they'd break him for sure, or at least reduce him to a crumbled state, a shell of his former self. It had taken all her strength not to dash off and warn him immediately when the Jabberwocky started describing, in vivid detail, the schemes he'd been dreaming up for new poisons to test out on the Hatter.

She stops at the door she's been dreading entering the most today: Art.

She never thought there'd be a day when she wanted to skip it more, but if she wants Professor Flora to stop worrying, then she'd better go.

She finds Mirana already there, her arms around Chess, who, Alice is relieved to find, looks perfectly well. Her eyes meet Alice's from across the room, and she gives her a tired smile. Well, that's a start. She makes her way over and crouches beside Chess, who immediately curls deeper into Mirana.

The sting of his open rejection still holds power over Alice, and she immediately begins trying to set things right with him. "Chess, whatever you think, it's not the way it looks." she says to the back of his powder blue head. "I'm doing this for you." She looks into Mirana's eyes to tell them both. "All of you. It won't be forever, I promise."

Chess turns in Mirana's arms, facing Alice partially now. He pulls out his phone and types something out.

"How long?"

"I don't know." she says honestly. "But it's going to be okay." She places a hand on his shoulder, and when he doesn't pull away, she gives it a gentle squeeze, trying to tell him in that one gesture how sorry she is. Chess looks at her for a moment, then pads off to another corner of the room.

She straightens up just in time for Professor Flora to enter. Much to her surprise, she has Mason with her, the latter keeping his head down with the rugby cap pulled firmly down, shielding his face. He catches sight of Alice, and the beginnings of a smile spread across his face.

"Sorry I'm late, everyone." she says, her wild pink hair considerably tame today. Her eyes look tired, but she does her best to maintain that same cheerful tone. "I was just retrieving our new student. This is Mason." She nudges him forward. "Go on," she says sweetly. "Say hello." He raises his hand and waves it a bit, but Professor Flora beams at him as if he's given the most charming introduction in the world. "He's a little shy, but that's alright." She moves to the center of the room, giving him a chance to run over to Alice and Mirana and plop himself between them. "Today, we're going to try this wonderful idea I found online. It's called Partner Painting. You'll all pair up with someone and create a piece of art. I know we're already a month into school, but it's never too late to have a chance to get to know each other. And to all you solo artists out there, we can always arrange a three-way if there aren't enough people." That earns a laugh from the entire class, including Professor Flora, chuckling to herself. "Alright, I stumbled into that one. Go on, pair up!"

"Let's be partners, Mirana!" Mason says eagerly.

Mirana smiles at him fondly. "I'd like that, Mason, but I think there's a boy who needs you a bit more." She nods towards Chess sulking in the corner by himself. "He's a wonderful artist. I'm sure you two will get along."

"Okay! Who's your partner going to be, then?"

Mirana turns to Alice. "Would you?"

"Of course!" Alice says, a bit too eagerly. She flushes. "Yeah, that'd be great."

Mason looks between them for a moment, studying them, then goes to talk to Chess.

"He's adjusting well." Mirana says, getting up off the floor. "I'm glad." She dusts herself off, though there is no offending dirt to be seen. "I suppose we'll decide what we paint after we get some materials."

Alice follows her to the cabinet where Mirana picks over the canvases. "Do you know what's going to happen to him?"

Mirana hands the canvas to Alice, a nice white landscape. "I want to find him a good family. Not mine, of course, he'd be in danger all the time. My parents are lovely, it's just that there are some things that they have strong, er, _feelings_ about." She selects a few brushes. "I used to share their views, but I find mine are changing. I only hope that it's for the better." She leads them to the next cabinet. "You choose the paint."

Alice finds a rainbow pallet tucked all the way in the back, then grabs tubes of black and white paint. She can't help her next question; her curiosity gets the better of her. "Views on me?" she asks hopefully.

Mirana colours. "I'd rather not discuss that right now. Maybe some other time."

"Right. Of course." Alice does her best to conceal the disappointment in her voice, but she has a feeling that it shines through anyway.

Mirana takes the canvas from Alice and sets it up on the easel. "So, what did you find out?" she asks.

Right to business. Wonderful. "They're after Tarrant. They're going to try to hurt him or something to get him on their side. They're hoping that once he's given up, everyone else will too."

"Anything else? Any cracks in her system?"

"The Bandersnatch, I think." Alice says, grabbing a stool to set up their paint. "He's not as awful as the others. I'm going to try to talk to him at some point."

"Did she give you a name?"

"Um."

"Um? Um what?"

"Um."

"Do you really not remember?"

"Um." Alice says, more insistently.

"It must have been really long if you can't remember it."

Alice sighs. "The name _is_ Um."

"Oh." Mirana quirks an eyebrow, smirking. "Um? Why on earth would she give you such a silly name?"

Alice stares down at her shoes. "I gave myself that name."

"Really?" she giggles. "Points for creativity."

"Oh, stuff it." Alice grumbles, but she's secretly pleased at making Mirana laugh a little. "What are we going to paint?"

Mirana thinks for a moment. "Maybe something abstract? We could do a background and then just add to it individually."

"Sounds easy enough."


	12. The Truth, or at Least, Some of It

**12**

After the chaos of the past month, painting with Mirana feels the closest to normal Alice has felt in a long time. Though she knows this little war is far from over, having a strategy takes some of that burden off her shoulders.

Once the background is finished, they paint on opposite ends of the canvas, sometimes meeting in the middle. Mirana's slowed down by her wrist, forced to paint with it completely straight instead of her usual long, elegant strokes. They're dancing around each other, that much is clear. There's so much Alice wants to say to Mirana, but the words stick in her throat. She dips her brush into the green and drags it in a smooth, tall arc. What if after all this is over, Mirana will want to bury anything that's happened between them? What if all of this is just her cracking under pressure?

What if it's all in her head?

Alice shakes herself out of those thoughts. _Focus_. It won't do to dwell on those things right now. She cleans her brush off and selects another colour.

Their painting turns out pretty good, sharp, white angular shapes and lines from Mirana contrasted with swirling, looping shapes from Alice of several different colours, occasionally overlapping each other over a patchy golden yellow background. Though the two should clash, oddly enough, they complement each other.

Mason and Chess's painting is fairly minimal by Chess's standards. It's simple — a red sun shining over jagged mountains. They'd apparently finished much earlier than Alice and Mirana, because Chess has Mason sitting on the stool while he paints his face.

Mason hops down from the stool and runs towards Mirana. "Look, Mirana! I'm a lion!"

Mirana giggles. "Yes, you are. My brave little lion."

Alice gets a look at him. Chess's blending and strong line work is impeccable. From a distance, the brush strokes almost look like an actual maw and fur. Chess himself is busying himself with cleaning off their brushes at the sink. Alice hopes that one day he can forgive her. Out of everyone she's hurt, other than Mirana's, his forgiveness is the one she needs most. He's not standing tall and smiling at everything the way he used to with that wicked grin. Now, as he slides the paint down from the brushes under the running water, his shoulders are drawn up, radiating a kind of subtle tension no one else would notice if they weren't looking for it.

As usual, Professor Flora wanders around the room once time is called, admiring everyone's work. She coos praise at Chess and Mason's piece. Chess looks sheepish, but Mason looks as if he's won the lottery with the sound of her approval. It never occurred to Alice before, but she suddenly realizes that if Mason's parents had sent him to conversion therapy, where there's constant lies telling you that there's something wrong with you, he might have never experienced someone else being proud of him.

Well, if that's the case, he needs a new set of parents. Parents that will love him always and help him see that he is pure and good and sweet and deserves all the love they can possibly give him.

When Professor Flora arrives at their piece, she studies it considerably longer than the others. Alice doesn't really understand this special attention to her, and she's not really sure how she feels about it.

"Interesting." she says. "Clashing and yet harmonious. Well done."

That was shorter than usual. Hmm. Perhaps it's not special attention after all.

"Fantastic work everyone!" Professor Flora clasps her hands together. "This was a delightful little experiment, and I'm pleased to say that all your paintings turned out wonderfully. Class dismissed!" Alice turns to leave, but Professor Flora holds up her hand. "Ah, you two," she says, gesturing at Alice and Mirana. "Stay behind a little, will you?"

Alice groans inwardly. She'd forgotten that Professor Flora wanted to check in on her, but keeping Mirana back too seems a little odd. What does she have to do with this? The school was already informed that she was on medical leave.

Once the room filters out, Mason leaving with Chess, Professor Flora drags two stools in front of her desk and gestures for them to sit. This can't be good.

Alice plops onto her stool while Mirana gingerly sits on hers. Professor Flora settles behind her desk, folding her hands.

"Alright, who's going to go first?" she asks.

"What?" they exclaim at the same time. Go first? What is this, an interrogation?

"You know what I mean." Professor Flora leans forward. "There's something going on at this school, and I have a feeling you two might have some answers. Especially you," she says, training her gaze on Alice. "Since you've apparently already taken a side in whatever this is."

Oh, that's what this is about. Wait, maybe Professor Flora can end this! Alice sits up a bit straighter. "Well, you see —"

Pain shoots up her leg from her shin, pulsing. Mirana's kicked her under the table. Alice bites her lip to keep from cursing and looks to her, wondering what the heck that's for, trying not to look annoyed and give something away by mistake.

Mirana smiles sweetly at Professor Flora. "It's all in good fun, I can assure you." she says in a diplomatic tone. "Just a bit we do every year. It'll be over soon."

All in good fun? What is Mirana playing at?

Professor Flora frowns, not entirely convinced. "Is this true, Alice?"

Mirana gives her a look. That answers that. She'll play along, but she wants answers later. Alice shrugs, attempting to look uncertain. "I'm just trying to have a bit of fun. I'm new here, so I'm not really familiar with this game."

Professor Flora still looks uncertain, but she apparently has decided to drop it for now. "Very well. Mirana, you may go. Alice, stay a bit longer, please."

Mirana rises. "Thank you, Professor Flora." Her eyes flicker to Alice's, trying to communicate something but it's unclear what. "I'll see you later, Alice."

She leaves the room, an enchanting flurry of snow, closing the door quietly behind her. Alice doesn't realize that she's still staring at the door until Professor Flora clears her throat, bringing her attention back to her art teacher.

"Alice, as I'm sure Professor Alden has told you, I'm very concerned for you." she says, worry creasing her eyes. "Missing classes, half-hearted paintings, it's just not like you."

"How would you know?" It comes out as a challenge, and Alice winces when she sees Professor Flora recoil, clearly hurt. "Sorry. I just find it hard to believe since you don't really know me, and I don't know you."

Professor Flora laughs softly. "Oh, but I do. I'm very observant, even if we don't talk much." She grows serious again. "I remember the first day you came into my class. Not overly cheerful, but not utterly miserable either. I saw the way you painted on your own, with such passion and vibrancy. It was beautiful to watch. You might not have been bounding about and laughing like your friend Chess, but you were happy." She frowns. "And then Mirana went on medical leave, and it was as if someone had sucked the very soul out of you. You skipped classes. You painted slowly, sluggishly, not really seeing what you were doing. You looked, for lack of a better term, dead. And you only came back to life when she returned, though only half as much. You have some of your muchness back, but not all of it."

Alice sits back a bit. "You and Professor Alden both use that word. Why?"

Professor Flora smiles. "I tell you all this, and you ask why we use the word muchness."

Alice flushes. "Yes, well, I was just curious —"

Professor Flora waves her off. "Oh, it's alright dear. I'll tell you this: it's not the reason that's important, but the word itself."

"I think I understand." She doesn't. Not really. "So, what are you trying to say?"

"You're in love, Alice." She raises a hand when Alice makes to deny it. "Ah, ah, let me finish. Even if you don't see it yet, others do. The way you look at her, the way you talk with her, how your eyes light up when she says your name. It's all very obvious. Especially when you become utterly miserable in her absence."

Alice turns a deeper shade of red. "And?"

"And, if you're going to let her affect you so deeply, you might as well tell her how you feel. I think you would be good together. You bring out the best in one another. Mirana could use someone like you to love and to love her in return."

After quickly getting over the initial shock that Professor Flora has pieced together so much that it's nearly invasive, Alice's mind works in another direction. Even though Mirana doesn't want Professor Flora to know about the war, she can use her help in another department.

She takes a deep breath and decides to just take the plunge. "I did tell her, and that's why she went on medical leave."

Professor Flora gapes. "You're telling me this now?"

"Like I said, we're not exactly close." Alice explains. "But the place she went isn't a hospital at all. It's a conversion therapy center with awful practices that needs to be shut down. You can't see it, but they did something to Mirana's wrists." She glances around, paranoid for a moment that someone might be around listening, but there's no one there. "We broke both her and Mason out of there not too long ago."

"That's why I can't find any records on him." Professor Flora realizes. "What about the parents? Do they know?"

"That's the thing." Alice shifts in her seat. "They don't know what goes on in there, but they're the ones that sent them there in the first place, hoping to 'cure' them, I suppose. Mirana checked herself in the day after I told her."

Professor Flora shakes her head. "Honestly, don't those parents understand that sexuality isn't a choice? It's not a disease you can catch; it's something you're born with, something beyond your control." She drums her fingers absentmindedly, thinking. "Do you know what exactly goes on there?"

"A lot of us have been." Alice says. "Myself, Tarrant, and of course, Mason and Mirana. I don't really know what they did to Tarrant, but they had Mason chained to his bed, and he's got bruises all over, probably from beatings. They hurt Mirana's wrists badly enough that she hardly bends them." She swallows hard, remembering her own time in the asylum. "They locked me in a room for two days without food or water, and the day after that they started whipping me to train me straight."

Professor Flora's expression is unreadable, processing the information. Her lips press into a tight, firm line, her eyes filling with restrained rage. Alice doesn't think she's ever seen her angry before, and it's absolutely terrifying. "I see. Haven't you tried to shut the place down?"

"I've thought about it." Alice admits. "But I've never had the courage before. I've always been afraid that they'll check me back in because I escaped. Tarrant is the only one that was released legally."

Professor Flora clasps her hands tightly together, her brow furrowing, eyes down. "No." she says quietly. Then louder, "No, this cannot continue. I'll look into this Alice, I promise you. Thank you for telling me."

Alice stands. "I had to tell someone." she says. "I feel," she squirms a little, unsure if she should say this. "I feel, I feel you're someone I can trust."

Professor Flora smiles. "I am. Try to enjoy the rest of your day, will you?"

"I will." Probably not. There's too much to be done. Mirana still owes her answers. She grabs her bag off the floor and leaves the classroom.


	13. Fealty to the Queen

**13**

* * *

Alice knows she wants answers, but she didn't think she'd be pulled into the groundskeeper's closet to get them.

So here she is, wedged between several gardening tools, a lawn mower digging into her back with Mirana pressed very close to her, close enough for her to feel the little puffs of breath coming from her nose. She knows she shouldn't be thinking this, knows that Mirana would probably be disgusted with her were she to voice said thoughts, but in such close proximity she can't help but wonder what the White Queen would do if she just leaned in a little closer.

Damn her body and its unsatisfiable wants.

She forces herself to say something intelligible. "So why, exactly, are we keeping your war a secret?" she asks. She doesn't see why they can't just tell the professors and have them end it.

Mirana shakes her head. "Alice, don't you know that when you tell on someone, you make things worse? If we were to tell Professor Flora, the torturing would escalate further. We cannot let the staff get involved."

Alice shelves any thoughts of telling Mirana about what she actually told Professor Flora. It won't do to have her angry with her again. "Why couldn't they stop it altogether? Expel those guilty?"

Mirana laughs mirthlessly. "Don't you think I've looked into that? Of course they could, but my parents run this school, and money talks. Iracebeth's whole gang practically has money pouring out their ears, and of course she'd throw them under the bus if she had to to save herself. If their parents pay mine enough, they'll forget anything. My only chance to dismantle her, undo all these awful webs she's been weaving, is to win this fight."

Alice groans inwardly. Money. Of course. It's always money. She shifts a bit, the lawn mower pushing a bit harder on her, and she's reminded of where they are. "On an unrelated note, why are we in the groundskeeper's closet?"

"We can't be seen together, remember?"

"Yes, but the closet?"

"I needed to talk to you, alright?"

Alice holds her hands up in defense the best she can in the cramped space. "Sorry." Her eyes flicker down to Mirana's wrists, wrapped in fresh gauze, and her curiosity gets the better of her. "What did they do to your wrists?"

Mirana puts them behind her back self-consciously, wincing when she accidentally hits the door. "They burned them. Wrapped them with copper coils and heated the metal."

Alice curses under her breath, rage welling up. If she ever sees Bumby again, she'll kill him. "At least that was the worst of it, right?"

Mirana squirms a little, uncomfortable. "No, but I don't want to talk about it." She presses herself against the door, looking everywhere but Alice, desperately trying to maintain her composure.

Now she _has_ to know. "Mirana, tell me. You can't keep this inside." Mirana shakes her head, and it's only then that Alice understands. Her lips pull back into a snarl. "He _touched_ you, didn't he?"

Mirana nods, fighting back tears threatening to pour from her eyes. "Can we please not talk about this anymore?" she pleads, keeping her jaw set and firm.

Alice sighs. "Alright, but at least tell me what I can do to make you feel okay again."

Mirana's eyes finally meet hers, so much pain in those soulful, dark brown eyes. "Win this war." she says softly.

Alice nods. "I will. I'll fight for you, if I have to."

The words leave her lips, shocking her a little. A while ago, that would have been unheard of. Don't get involved. That's what she'd tried to do. Yet try as she might, staying away grows more impossible with each passing day. She can't. She doesn't want to.

Mirana smiles sadly and leans down, brushing her lips against Alice's cheek. Heat spreads from the feather light touch, and Alice can't suppress the glimmer of hope that surges through her. She pulls away far too soon, lingering for half a second. When she straightens up again, she looks very much the part of the White Queen, regal and strong, head held high.

"I'll see you back at our room."

She leaves the closet, leaving Alice to sink to the floor.

 _Our room_.

Heaven help her.

* * *

"No you idiot, we can't do that!"

Alice holds in an exasperated sigh as Iracebeth once again berates the Bandersnatch. Honestly, his suggestion isn't as bad as the other ones have been, and if it wouldn't hurt Tarrant, she might actually be impressed. She tries to ignore the stream of insults that follow, digging into her toad in the hole, making sure to get a good amount of bread on to go with the meat. Out of everyone else in the entire gang, the Bandersnatch seems to get the brunt of the Red Queen's wrath. Alice can't help but feel a little sorry for him. The Jabberwocky basks in it, of course, quickly offering alternatives that honestly sound like slightly tweaked versions of what the Bandersnatch proposed, eager to please Iracebeth in any way he can. When he's not doing that, he's writing down more poison recipes. Alice has taken note of a few of his methods to know what to watch out for. If Iracebeth starts showing any more favor to her, he might try to poison her next. Stayne, as usual, refuses to contribute anything useful to the conversation, simply saying that he'll do what needs to be done. Timmy and Tommy mostly stay silent, afraid of upsetting Iracebeth with their way of speaking.

"Why don't we just take his hat?" the Bandersnatch tries again, shredding his steak and potatoes absentmindedly. She can see the anxiousness in his hand as he grips the fork, destroying his meal more and more by the second. "He seems to rely on it quite a bit."

"No!" Alice says quickly. The lot of them stare at her. Bollocks, now she's got to think of a decent excuse. "We can't, because…" Bollocks, bollocks, bollocks! "Because everyone will notice!" Now follow it up with something believable. "Everyone knows that he needs that hat. If it goes missing, it'll draw attention to us." Good, yes. That's believable.

The gang seems to accept this and returns to planning strategies. The Bandersnatch sinks into his seat, defeated, and starts moodily shovelling food into his mouth. Alice wishes she could tell him she's sorry for shooting him down, but she can't let Iracebeth take his hat away. He _needs_ it. Switching personas instantly when it's removed is proof of that, since the only other time that happens is when he grows passionate or angry.

The Bandersnatch finishes his food and gets up to leave. Iracebeth's eyes narrow.

"Did I say you could leave?" she says, her lip curling. The Bandersnatch rolls his eyes and keeps going, towards the dish return. "Get back here!" He doesn't even turn around, eyes straight ahead. Iracebeth's cheeks redden with rage. "Um! Get him back here!"

Alice bites back a curse but goes after the Bandersnatch anyway. Maybe this can be her chance to get him to switch sides, at least get some muscle on their side. The Bandersnatch is the only one that remotely has a chance in a fight against Stayne and the Jabberwocky, if it ever comes to that.

He acknowledges her presence with a low grunt. "I'm not going back there." he mutters.

Alice sits on a stool. "That's fine."

The Bandersnatch grips the counter. "No, it's not. I can't go back, not ever." He lets out a heavy sigh. "I'm lost again."

Alice sits forward a little, intrigued. "Again?"

He flies at her, his fist closed around her throat in a second, tight enough to hurt but not enough to break anything. "You can't repeat this to a soul, alright?" Alice gasps out a yes and he releases her. She rubs her throat, sucking in air. Yes, he'd definitely be perfect in a fight. "I'm only telling you because you're not like them. You listen. You give good reasons. You don't just tell me 'no'." He paces around, glaring at the occasional student that happens to wander in. "I just wanted a place where I could fit. Everyone was scared of me when I came here. Nobody wanted to talk to me, because of this."

He reaches up, into his eye socket, and pops out his left eye. Alice's stomach churns at the sight of pink, hollowed out flesh. She'd never noticed that one of his eyes wasn't real. Eventually staring directly at his face becomes too much, and her eyes find the tiled floor.

He holds out the eye to her, a pale iris staring at her. "Do you want to hold it?"

Alice looks away again. She just can't look at it, and she feels awful knowing that she feels this way. "No, thank you."

He laughs bitterly. "You see?" There's the sound of it being popped back into place. "You can look now." Alice raises her eyes, but now she can't unsee what he's just revealed. She looks away again. He groans. "This is exactly what I'm talking about. There's a lot worse, but I've got makeup covering it." His heavy feet scuff the floor as he drags them. "No one can look at me. No one can talk to me, because they're afraid. They think I'm going to hurt them because of this. I didn't belong anywhere.

Then Iracebeth found me. I know, I shouldn't be saying her name. It's 'Your Majesty' to me, or 'Red Queen'. I didn't care before. I thought this was the way friends treated each other. There was a clear alpha, and the rest followed. Kind of like a beast pack.

But the way she's been to me lately… I started thinking that this wasn't the way things are supposed to be. She doesn't listen to me. She doesn't talk to me unless she needs something. She doesn't have _anything_ to do with me unless she needs something. Convert or destroy. That was all she told me to do. Never, 'hey mate, want to catch a movie?' or 'come on, I want to show you something!'. Yeah, I hear them. The other kids in the halls, talking to each other. Like equals! I want that. But Iracebeth always said I couldn't because I was better than them. We didn't waste our time with things like that. Yet when she thought I didn't hear them, she'd invite Ilosovic and James out and leave me here to 'patrol the halls' or 'keep everyone in line'. I never did. I didn't want to. It didn't feel like me. Though I suppose it's been so long that I don't know who I am anymore. I'm just some brute with a fucked up face.

I can't stay with her anymore, Alice. I can't do it. She makes me feel worthless, unimportant. I'd rather be alone than stay with her."

His eyes light up a little. "But you listen." he says. "You listen to everyone. I've seen you. Why don't we both leave Iracebeth? I can give you protection. We don't have to get involved. We can let Red and White fight it out and not have to worry about anything anymore. We don't have to be friends. We can just be allies, if you want."

Oh God, he looks so hopeful. Alice wants to say yes, she really does, but she's in too deep to just throw everything away and leave it all behind. Mirana is too important to her. Tarrant is too important. Thackery, Mally, Nivens, Chess, they're all worth staying in this for. Now is the time to tell him.

"I can't withdraw from the war." Alice says carefully. "Wait!" she says as the Bandersnatch growls in frustration and makes to leave. "I can offer you a place with Mirana's… alliance?" Is that even the proper term? It'll do. "Yes, alliance."

The Bandersnatch scoffs. "Oh, yeah. If I wanted to be on the losing side, I'd switch myself."

Alice scowls. "How do you know we're going to lose?"

"As long as Iracebeth's got James, she can't lose. He's the one everyone's _really_ afraid of. Get rid of him, and maybe I'll join you."

"Who's James, exactly?"

"Iracebeth's Jabber-baby-wocky." he simpers. "Bloody stupid nickname if you ask me, but then again, no one ever does." With that, he shuffles out the door, shoulders slumped.

Well, there goes their best chances at a fighter. The Jabberwocky is far too strong for anyone but the Bandersnatch to take on. His lithe form makes him impossible to hit, and he's got a plethora of weapons to choose from. He could very well weaken his opponents before the fight even starts.

Well shit.

* * *

"I'll just have to surrender."

"What? No!" Alice says adamantly. She springs off her bed onto her feet. "There has to be another way."

Mirana gingerly taps something out onto her laptop. "You said it yourself. Defeating the Jabberwocky is our best shot. We don't have anyone strong enough, and I obviously cannot do it, not even if I wanted to."

Alice moves to stand behind her chair, curious to see what Mirana's working on that's keeping her so calm about all of this. Astronomy notes. How dull. "Why not?"

Mirana shows Alice her wrists for a split second, but it's enough to give Alice a painful reminder of past events. "These. Besides, it goes against my vows."

Alice raises an eyebrow. "What vows? When did you take vows?"

"In the asylum. When I saw certain… treatments, I made several vows to God not to harm another living creature. I never want to be the cause of so much agony." Forgetting her wrists for a moment, she bends them to add something else, hissing out when a jolt of pain bites the muscle.

Alice gently places her hands on Mirana's shoulders. Mirana tenses up for a moment before relaxing, but only slightly, under Alice's light touch. "Stop it. You're hurting yourself."

"I'm fine, Alice."

"No, you're not. Typing with straight wrists is nearly impossible. I'm surprised you've managed for so long."

"I have to get this done." Mirana insists.

"Let me do it."

"Alice —"

"Mirana." Alice challenges. "It's just copying notes. I promise you that I won't change anything Thackery wrote. I'll copy it exactly." She glances at the second screen, noticing that despite his choppy writing, Thackery's notes are very detailed. She tries not to grimace at the amount of time it's going to take to get it all down. It's for Mirana. It's worth it.

Mirana reluctantly cedes. "Fine." She gets up from her desk and stands to let Alice take her place. "Well, if I don't surrender, what are we supposed to do? It's only a matter of time before they stop talking about hunting Tarrant and actually do it. You can't hold them off forever."

"That remains to be seen." Alice squints. Assertion? Assention? Oh, ascension. This is going to be a long night.

"What I would need is a Champion." Mirana says to herself. "Someone who would declare their loyalty in front of Iracebeth and face the Jabberwocky alone, which is suicide in itself. None of our boys are exactly strong enough, though. I wouldn't want to put any of them in that kind of danger."

Alice stops typing about the Right Ascension for a moment and thinks. This is a mad, completely bonkers idea, but it just might work. Besides, there really is no other choice, and she did informally promise Mirana she would if need be.

"Who says it has to be a boy?" she asks.

"Are you suggesting Mally? The Jabberwocky would snap her in —"

"I'm suggesting me."

There's a silence that seems to hang in the air for an eternity. Then:

"No."

"What?"

"I said no, Alice."

Alice glares at her. "And why not? I don't see any other options."

"I'm not letting you put yourself in harm's way for me again. I won't allow it."

"You won't allow it?" Alice gets up, and in that moment she feels taller than Mirana for once. "You can't forbid me from anything, Mirana. You don't own me. If I want to fight for you, I will. You can't stop me. I told you earlier my —"

"I didn't think it would come to —!"

"Well it has!" Alice stops, suddenly aware of how riled up she is, how heavily she's breathing, and how terrifying she must look to Mirana right now. She forces herself to calm down and softens her tone. She's got one card left to deal. Her final ace. "I'm doing this because I love you." There, it's out there. She's said it, and there's no taking it back.

Mirana turns away from her, and her heart breaks a little. "That's exactly why you shouldn't be doing it. You're letting your feelings cloud your judgement."

"I disagree." Alice says. "Wouldn't you rather have someone that loves you fighting for you?"

Mirana laughs mirthlessly. "I'm not sure you mean that. You could just be telling me that for the sake of saying it."

Alice moves closer to her, feeling braver now, bolder. "I love you. I love you, and I'm going to keep telling you that until you believe me."

Mirana turns away from her, hiding her face. "Even if I felt the same way, which I'm not even sure I do, we cannot be. My parents still run this school."

"Your parents don't even live here. Once Iracebeth is defeated and we can prove what she's been doing, nothing she says can ruin you, because they won't believe her anymore." She takes Mirana's hand, careful to keep her wrist straight. "I will be your Champion." She lifts her hand and presses her lips to her soft, ivory skin, closing her eyes a little at the sensation of her lips on Mirana. "I love you." she murmurs, pressing another kiss to her hand.

Mirana flushes, a soft tinge of pink barely showing on her cheeks. "I'm not sure I can say the same, not yet, at least. But thank you." Her eyes meet Alice's, and she smiles at her warmly.

"My Champion."


	14. Caterpillar

**14**

* * *

From: Delphinium Flora

To: Alice Kingsleigh

 **Regarding Mason and the Asylum**

Today at 7:00 AM

Dear Alice,

There is so much I need to tell you that I don't believe I can say it in person. I don't think I can restrain myself from resorting to foul language.

I spent quite some time researching Mason Potter last night, more so than I did with my initial search. I'll admit that I had to do some exploring in certain places that I'd rather not speak of. Despite everything, the only records I was able to initially find were those at the asylum. Dr. Bumby hides these things well, but Absolem helped me uncover them. He went deeper into the files and found that his parents died soon after they sent him there, a car crash just a few miles from their home. I don't think Mason knows this, but it's not our place to tell him, at least not yet.

Speaking of things he probably doesn't know, it says that Dr. Bumby is Mason's adopted father. That means that you could be charged with kidnapping if we were ever to take this to court. What am I saying, of course we have to take this to court! That place needs to be shut down.

I need you to find out if Mirana, Mason, and Tarrant are willing to testify. We've got to build a solid case against Dr. Bumby. I want that man destroyed. I'm looking through several lawyers as I type.

I'm hoping this reaches you before I see you next so I don't have to explain all of this again. I'm glad you came to me Alice. You must remember that you are brave, and you are not alone in all of this. Use every ounce of muchness you have to carry yourself through.

The fondest regards,

Professor Flora

* * *

Waking up to this email was not what Alice had in mind to start her day. Not only does she have to declare her allegiance to Mirana, and, by extension, inherently paint a target on her chest; she also has to challenge the Jabberwocky to a fight and hope by some miracle she can defeat him. Now, Professor Flora has told her to essentially ask her friends to relive their worst experiences in front of an entire courtroom, which also means telling Mirana that she had confided with their art teacher in the first place.

So much to do, and it's only 7:00 A.M.

Alice pulls on a white button up, step one to declaring her allegiance. The stark colour brings out the pink in her cheeks a little too well, but she can't exactly complain. She buttons up all the way to the bit just before the collar, opting to leave that open. She'd never been fond of how the collar choked her if she buttoned up all the way. Professor Flora had mentioned Professor Alden getting involved. Why did he care all of a sudden? He'd always managed to maintain a sort of indifference to everything, and as far as Alice is concerned he seems to outright hate her. So why now? Why bother with getting involved now? As far as Alice knows, this war doesn't directly affect him at all.

She steps into a pair of blue jeans, hopping a little to pull them up all the way. No, him getting involved just doesn't make any sense. She closes the snap with a soft click, glancing over at Mirana's bed, empty with the covers thrown back. Wonder what had her in such a rush this morning that she'd neglect to make it. She walks over barefoot and straightens them out.

She shrugs into her jean jacket, happy for the familiarity it brings. Her eyes wander to the red and black shirt lying on her own unmade bed. She's going to have to rip that in half in front of everyone. She looks back and forth between Iracebeth's shirt and her new uniform. Are she and her sister really that different? Both believe strongly in some sort of ruling system. Both force you into declaring your allegiance one way or the other, whether through brute force or a magnetic nature, and have you show that support by wearing their respective colours. Both are fighting to be on top, one slightly more aggressive than the other.

Her shoes go on next, laces tied tightly. No, that's not true. Mirana is aggressive too, but in a different way. A fierce determination to make everyone her friend and therefore have everyone support her. Tarrant had told her that it was unintentional, but after everything Alice has seen she's not so sure.

She remembers seeing brown roots in Mirana's hair when she'd found her in the asylum. Is all this blinding white really who she is? It suddenly strikes her that this woman that she's fallen in love with is someone that she doesn't, in retrospect, really know much about. Of course, she knows the basic things: her parents run the school, she needs that scholarship to make it far in life, she wants to end Iracebeth's reign. She's also terribly insecure about her sexuality. She cares for her friends, to an extent. Alice has never actually seen her go out of her way to help someone other than Mason, but she's heard from Tarrant that she does care.

However, all this she could have gleaned by simply looking at her. Most of it anyway. But what about the little things? Her favourite season? What she does in her free time? Where she'd like to go on holiday someday? What home is like? The more she thinks about it, the more she realizes that she can answer these questions more easily about Tarrant or Chess because they've occasionally talked about nothing before, but when she comes to Mirana she draws a blank.

Is this even love?

Or just infatuation?

Too many confusing thoughts all at once. Best not to think about it for now. At the very least, she knows Mirana is a friend.

* * *

Alice barely makes it in time to Astronomy. She'd kept her jacket buttoned up completely during breakfast, all the way to her neck, the red and black shirt seeming to burn a hole through her backpack and into the denim as she sat alone, neither with her friends or Iracebeth's gang, trying to blend in with some of the other students that seemed to be neutral. They'd given her strange looks at first, but once she'd flashed her white collar they let her sit down. Apparently they'd decided that Mirana's side is safe enough to trust.

She slides in beside Thackery, who nervously looks at her. She wants so badly to tell him that she's on his side, but most of the shirts in the room are red, and she knows better than to reveal herself right now. She glances over at Mirana and notices Niven's seat is still empty. Her heart sinks at the sight. He'd still be here, bothering everyone about the importance of time if none of this had happened.

Professor Alden narrows his eyes at her, thumb poised over his clicker to start his slideshow, but says nothing. Curious. No snide comment about how punctuality is a virtue she would do well to gain? No forcing her to wait a good ten minutes before entering the class again, and then have her apologize to her fellow students? Curiouser and curiouser. He must have other things on his mind if he's not expending energy insulting her today.

He clicks, and massive particle rings fill the screen. "Let's continue where we left off, shall we? Miss Kingsleigh," His cold eyes lock on hers. Damn, thought too soon. "Would you care to continue the lecture? I know you were reading ahead, and that's clearly why you're late today."

Alice's jaw drops. "I had a minute left!" she protests.

"Late." Professor Alden insists with a sneer.

He holds out the clicker to her, and Alice resists the urge to snatch it from his stupid hand. She clicks it again, and the title appears: _The Origin of Ring Particles_. She clicks it again, hoping his usual bulleted list will appear, but nothing happens.

"Problem, Miss Kingsleigh?" Alice says nothing, silently fuming. Where does he get off with all this humiliation? He holds his hand out for the clicker, and once again Alice has to restrain herself from slamming it into his hand. "Arrive on time, Miss Kingsleigh, and this won't happen again."

Alice sits back down, balling her hands into fists. What she would give to land a punch right in the bridge of his nose and break his stupid glasses, mess up his pretentious hair with a big vat of grease. Professor Alden clicks a few more times, his bullet points finally appearing. What an arse!

Her attention is drawn away from the lecture by a sheet of paper being pushed in front of her. Thackery's written her something.

 _Why?_

Alice frowns and quickly writes back.

 _Why what?_ What is he talking about?

 _Why aren't you on our side? I thought you were._

 _I am._

 _Doesn't look like it._

 _Thackery, I promise I'll explain it to you later._

 _You don't think I'll understand now?_

Alice grits her teeth. She really wants to tell him.

 _I can't tell you now._

The paper comes back to her faster now, a little too loud. Alice hides it under her Astronomy book just before Professor Alden looks over at her. He halts for a second, then continues teaching.

 _Why not?_

 _I just can't._

 _Why?_

 _Trust me._

 _Why?_

 _Ask Mirana, okay?_

 _I want to hear it from you._

Alice quietly takes a deep breath. Thackery is really making this difficult. Why does everybody want answers all the time? Why can't they just accept what she says?

Oh, right, because according to everyone else she's a double crossing monster that caused the whole power imbalance in the first place. She upset the equilibrium.

 _I can't get into it right now. It's a lot._

 _Try me._

 _Let's just say things aren't what they seem, okay?_

The paper stays with Thackery for a long time, then:

 _Okay. I don't like it, but okay._

Thank God he finally accepted an answer from her. She folds the paper in half and tucks it away into her binder. She's surprised that they got away with passing notes, especially since they sit in the front row.

* * *

Alice gets a third of the way through the door before she hears that nasal yet rich tenor voice call out to her.

"Miss Kingsleigh, a word."

Alice groans but hangs back anyway. She figures she's got nothing to lose at this point, so when the classroom empties out completely, she whirls on Professor Alden.

"Alright, why me?" she asks, trying to keep her irritation under control. "You don't act like this with anybody else, so why me?"

Professor Alden laughs dryly. "How assumptuous of you. You do realize you're not my only class, don't you?"

Alice frowns. "What else do you teach?" From the way he'd talked about it, Astronomy seems to be the only class he deems worth his time.

"Well, in addition to the two Astronomy class periods, I also teach Philosophy." He pauses. "But never you mind. I want to know what you plan to do about this whole Bumby business."

Alice folds her arms. "Why, exactly, are you getting involved with this again?" She's not going to let him off this easy, especially since she knows he wants answers from her.

Professor Alden rolls his eyes. "Honestly, Alice, it's no concern of yours. The fact that I'm willing to help should be enough. The Underlands fear me far too much to do anything about it, should they find out. I'm more valuable to them than they are to me. Now, and I won't ask again, what do you plan to do about Bumby?"

Alice bites back yet another question, this one pertaining to why he's even working here. "Professor Flora said she had a plan."

"I know she does, stupid girl."

Alice colours. "Who are you calling —"

"Keep. Your. Temper." Professor Alden says levelly, yet still with an underlying danger to his tone. "I want to know _your_ plan, because if Delphi's fails, you'll be left with an ugly mess to clean up."

Who's Delph — oh. Delphinium Flora. Alice wonders when Professor Alden had dropped that formality with her, but knows better to keep that to herself, however reluctantly. "I don't really have one."

Professor Alden frowns. "Odd. I thought you would. You seemed to have thought everything through when you went to break Mirana out of that institution. Or do you believe now that Mirana's safe, you don't have to care any more?" He rises, gripping his desk, regarding her with cold eyes behind his shining spectacles. "Because if that's the case, you're wrong. As long as Bumby is around, she will never be safe. Whatever you did to fool him will not last long." He slams his palms on the desktop, startling Alice. "Think, Kingsleigh! You've got to! Even if it's for your own selfish reasons!"

Alice glares at him. How dare he? "I could say the same for you!"

Professor Alden curls his lip. "Go on." he says cooly.

She balls her hands into fists. "Admit it, if Professor Flora weren't involving herself in this case, you wouldn't either!"

"You don't know what you're talking about." he growls through clenched teeth. "You stand there, screaming at me, _stupid girl_ ," he hisses those last words. "When you know _nothing_ about me. Who. Are. You?"

Alice clenches her jaw. "I'm Alice." she says, trying to maintain control.

"No, you most certainly are not."

Alice squeezes her palms so hard that her nails start to make little dents in the flesh. "Why do you keep saying that? I am Alice! There's no one else I could possibly be!"

"Prove it."

"I _am_ Alice Kingsleigh! I've got a sister called Margaret and a mother called Helen. My father Charles died when I was young, and my Aunt Imogene tried to commit me to an asylum a few years later because of something beyond my control. I'm seventeen years old going on eighteen May next year, and I've been moved from school to school up until now. All my life I've been told what I must do and who I must be, and it's still going on even after I came here to get some form of independence! I know who I am, and I shouldn't have to prove it to you to make myself believe it!" Alice inhales sharply, trying to calm her impassioned breathing. "I. Am. Alice." she says firmly, looking straight into Professor Alden's emerald eyes. "And I do not care if you believe me or not."

Professor Alden is unreadable for a moment, then, starts chuckling. "Alice, at last. You're just as dimwitted as you were the moment I first met you. Insisted on calling me 'Caterpillar', as I recall."

Alice doesn't know whether to be insulted or shocked. "We've… we've met before?"

Professor Alden fishes around for something in the center drawer of his desk. "Think back to when you were homeschooled. I knew Imogene tried her best to make you forget me, but maybe this will jog your memory." He holds his hand out to her, fingers tightly closed around something, but when they unfurl Alice is suddenly hit with wave upon wave of memories long buried.

* * *

" _Yes, Alice, that's it. Good."_

 _Charles Kingsleigh beams with approval as seven year old Alice stands in the first parry position: left foot forward, right back at ninety degrees, right arm back, and left arm forward, left hand holding a sabre much too large for her in front of her right side. Alice mirrors his bright smile back at him, happy to have pleased her father, warm brown eyes just like his sparkling with a kind of childlike joy._

" _Am I just like you, Father?" she asks hopefully, stepping out of position._

 _Charles kneels in front of her, placing his hands on her shoulders. "No, my dear girl." Alice looks disappointed for a moment, until he adds, "You are so much better."_

 _He tickles her and Alice squeals with delight, dropping the sabre and squirming to escape his fingers. He hoists her up into the air, tossing her up and prompting another happy little squeal, before resting her on his hip._

 _Alice rests her head contentedly on his shoulder. "Am I mad for wanting to learn?" she asks, glancing at the sabre now lying far on the ground below, seeming a million miles away from her place in her father's arms._

 _Charles grins._ _"I'm afraid so. You're mad." He boops her nose. "Bonkers." He ruffles her hair, making her head go 'round a bit. Alice giggles. "Off your head!" he roars. He leans in conspiratorially, and whispers, "But I'll tell you a secret. All of the best people are."_

 _Alice's eyes widen at this sudden phenomenon. "All of them?"_

" _All of them."_

 _Alice giggles. "Then you're mad too!"_

 _Charles chuckles and is about to make some quip about how it's no fun to be sane when the doorbell rings, a booming chime that resonates throughout the house. He smiles and sets Alice on her feet, taking her tiny hand in his and engulfing it._

" _Come now, Alice. It's time to meet your new tutor."_

 _They leave Charles's study and descend the grand staircase into the parlour. A young man in his early thirties lounges on one of the sofas, smoking a pipe. His long, light brown hair spills over his shoulders and down his back, emerald green eyes regarding the luxurious paintings hanging on the walls behind brass spectacles. He wears a white dress shirt paired with a red dotted tie and a navy blue vest over it along with matching slacks, black dress shoes to complete the look. Pinned to the vest is a tiny silver caterpillar, arched in mid-crawl._

 _Alice becomes fixated on the pin and draws nearer to him, letting go of her father's hand. She must know why the caterpillar has stopped crawling._

 _Charles sighs. "Absolem, really, put that out. Alice is —"_

 _Alice is sitting on Absolem's lap, prodding at the pin. It still isn't moving. Why won't it move?_

 _Absolem takes the pipe from his lips and laughs, reaching into his pocket for a coin to press into the bowl before setting it aside. "Is this yours?" he asks, gesturing at Alice._

" _Yes, she is, and you know it." Charles says, watching amused as Alice continues to poke the pin. "I'm terribly sorry, she's a very curious child."_

" _Much like you, no doubt. She's grown since her baptism."_

" _No one was stopping you from visiting."_

 _Absolem rolls his eyes. "You know me, always busy. Until now, that is." He frowns when Alice begins to tug on his pin and gently pries her fingers off it. "What's got you so interested, hmm?"_

 _Alice looks at him pointedly. "Your caterpillar doesn't move."_

" _Ah. You see, Alice, this is not a real caterpillar. It isn't supposed to move."_

 _Alice frowns, not following at all. "Not supposed to?"_

" _Correct. Like your paintings up there." He points to a recent portrait of Alice. "You wouldn't expect that to move, would you?"_

 _Alice giggles, shaking her head. "No! That's a picture! Pictures don't move!"_

 _Absolem smiles and points at his pin. "This is a picture too."_

" _I don't understand."_

" _I'll teach you." Absolem shifts her on his lap. "I'll teach you lots of things, because I'm going to be your new tutor."_

 _Alice frowns. "New tutor? But Father is my tutor."_

 _Charles moves over to them, looking a bit sheepish. "You see Alice, my travels are making it a bit more difficult for me to teach you much more than the bits and pieces I have been. I want you to be learning on a steady schedule, so your godfather, Absolem, is going to be your tutor from now on."_

 _Alice hops off of Absolem's lap instantly and rushes over to her father, wrapping her arms around his legs. "You can take me with you!" she pleads, peering up at him from her messy blonde curls._

 _Charles smiles tiredly. "I'm afraid I can't. Absolem will look after your studies. I'm sorry, darling."_

 _Alice pouts. "I want one thing."_

" _Name it."_

 _She points at Absolem. "I get to call him 'Caterpillar'."_

 _Charles roars with laughter at Absolem's expression. "Oh, yes, Alice, please do. Call him that every chance you get."_

* * *

 _Alice peeks from the staircase, watching as Aunt Imogene screams at Absolem. Absolem looks positively unaffected as she rages at him, sitting calmly on the sofa as Aunt Imogene waves her arms about, pacing the length of the massive floor rug._

" _Can't believe you would even encourage that sort of behaviour! What would Charles say?"_

 _Absolem regards her with a neutral expression. "I believe he'd be very impressed that she knows how to defend herself."_

" _And the philosophy?"_

" _Broadening her perspective."_

" _The acceptance of homosexuality? Jews? Buddhists? Blacks?!"_

" _Honestly Imogene, wake up. We don't live in Victorian England. We have to be accepting of everyone, even if you don't necessarily agree with their beliefs."_

" _Jesus says that they are abominations!"_

" _That's only true of one of those things. He also cursed a fig tree."_

" _I don't like the way you're corrupting Alice." Imogene says, seething. "A proper young lady should not be exposed to these vile things."_

 _Absolem gets to his feet, rage finally spreading across his face. "As opposed to what? Keeping her ignorant? Not letting her think for herself? Not giving her a choice?"_

 _Alice nearly falls down the stairs when she feels something nudge her back, silencing her reflexive squeak. Her mother looks down at her, raising an eyebrow. Alice wordlessly points to the spectacle down below. Helen sighs and scoops her up, descending the staircase._

" _What's going on here?" she asks._

" _That man," Imogene jabs an accusatory finger at Absolem. "Is ruining your daughter. I want him out!"_

 _Helen doesn't look the slightest bit flustered. She turns to Absolem. "I'm sorry, Imogene is terribly protective. I'm sure you're doing quite well."_

" _Protective? Protective?!" Imogene rounds on her sister. "I'm right about this, Helen, you'll see." She stalks off to God only knows where, leaving Absolem alone with mother and daughter._

 _Alice speaks first. "You're not ruining me!" she says indignantly. She wriggles herself out of her mother's arms and runs to hug his legs. "You're a great teacher!"_

 _Absolem smiles down at her fondly. "I'm glad you think so."_

" _I know so."_

 _Absolem laughs. "Silly girl." he says, ruffling her hair._

* * *

 _The next week, Absolem is gone._

 _Alice bounds down the stairs, ready for her lesson, only to find the parlour quite empty._

" _Caterpillar?" she calls out._

 _No response._

 _She dashes down the halls, calling "caterpillar, caterpillar!" over and over again, with no response every time._

 _Helen stops her just before she makes to go outside. "He's not here, Alice." she says quietly._

 _Alice frowns. "Why?"_

" _I don't know."_

 _And so the public schooling began._

* * *

Alice gapes at him, incredulous. "You were my tutor!"

"Took you long enough. You were staring at my hand for a good long time."

"Why did you leave?"

"Your aunt threatened me with something I couldn't ignore. Leave it at that." he adds firmly when she makes to ask more about it. "I want you to take this, and always remember who you are. No one can alter your memories unless you allow them to."

Alice takes the tiny, silver caterpillar pin and pockets it. It feels heavier in her hand than it should.

"I'll write you a pass for your History class. Think about what _you're_ going to do, not what Delphi will do."

Alice leaves the room, pass now in hand, weighed down by the sudden revelations of Professor Alden. For once, she starts to think about her choices, and what she's going to do to make things better.

For everyone.


	15. Threads Cut

**15**

Alice, with the silver caterpillar now pinned to her shirt, makes her way to the center of the Cibus for dinner. She has no idea how she's going to do this, exactly, but with Iracebeth's shirt in hand she knows what she must do.

Mirana spies her and rises from her place between Tarrant and Mally, gliding over to stand by her side. In a longsleeved, white collared blouse, flowing matching skirt, and flats, her long, platinum blonde hair seeming to shimmer in the sunlight streaming through the windows, she nearly takes Alice's breath away. As she gazes at her expectantly, the epitome of hidden strength, any doubt from before vanishes.

Mirana Marmoreal Underland is worth fighting for.

Iracebeth's voice cuts through the din before anyone else can say a word. "Um?" she yells. "Um, what are you doing up there?"

The entire hall hushes, but the use of that awful nickname sets something off within Alice. "My name is not Um." she says, looking Iracebeth straight in the eye. "My name is Alice Kingsleigh, and I have _never_ answered to you." She unbuttons her jacket and holds it open, revealing the white collared shirt. "My allegiance has been, and always will be, to Mirana Underland." She holds up the red and black shirt, already unbuttoned. "I am no longer part of your gang." The fabric tears easily in half, not perfectly, but enough to get the message across. The sound of the material shredding into two seals her fate. She drops the shirt.

There is a moment of silence, then an outbreak of cheers.

"I KNEW IT!" Thackery bellows happily.

"Well done Alice!" Bayard calls from an unbiased table.

"I always liked that girl!" Mally yells from beside Tarrant, who only grins at her.

"Hurray for Alice!" Timmy and Tommy shout. Stayne smacks them both upside the head, but they're too happy to care.

"ENOUGH!"

Iracebeth strides over to Mirana and Alice, her face a bright scarlet shade. Her eyes lock on Mirana, and she purses her lips so tightly they nearly disappear. "You," she snarls, her voice dangerously low. "You just can't be satisfied unless everyone loves you, can you?"

" 'Racie —"

"DON'T YOU 'RACIE ME!"

Iracebeth lunges at her, but Alice steps between them, shoving Iracebeth back and wrapping her arms protectively around Mirana. Iracebeth stumbles and falls onto her arse, causing everyone but the Jabberwocky to laugh, even those wearing red and black. She smacks her fists onto the tile.

"STAYNE!"

Stayne rushes to her side, the hint of a smirk still present on his face as he helps her to her feet. Iracebeth shrugs him off once she's fully upright and whirls on Alice. "You've made an enemy of me, _Alice_." she hisses her name. "You will regret this."

"I'm sure I won't." Alice says coyly. "Oh, and there's something else." She cups her hands around her mouth and calls out, "I CHALLENGE THE JABBERWOCKY TO A FIGHT! IF I WIN, IRACEBETH'S REIGN OF TERROR ENDS! IF I LOSE, MIRANA WILL SURRENDER!"

"Alice, what are you doing?" Mirana whispers, panic in her eyes.

"No idea." she whispers back out of the corner of her mouth. "But I know it's right."

Iracebeth smirks. "You just signed your own death sentence." she says, then shouts to the crowd, "THE FIGHT TAKES PLACE IN THREE DAYS, IN FRONT OF THE STATUE, 12 NOON! HOWEVER!" she says, silencing the uproarious crowd with a glare. "I WANT ALICE KINGSLEIGH'S HEAD! WHOEVER BRINGS IT TO ME WILL BE REWARDED WITH WHATEVER THEY DESIRE!" Iracebeth smiles at her evilly. The crowd cheers at that while Tarrant, Mally, Thackery, and Bayard look on in horror. "You'd better watch your back. You too," she leans in, lowering her voice. "Mirana."

* * *

Alice keeps a brave face until they return to their dorm. She looks at Mirana fearfully. "She doesn't actually want my head, does she?"

Mirana sighs. "Yes, she does. This is exactly why I didn't want you to do this. If you're having second thoughts, I understand."

"No!" Mirana flinches at her volume; Alice softens her voice. "Believe me when I say I'd follow you through Hell and back." She joins her on her bed. "Look, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't scared. But by putting your throne on the line, so to speak, it's given me even more reason to win this fight. I _am_ your Champion."

"Oh, Alice you are so much more than —" Mirana stops herself suddenly, biting her lip, opting to stare at her hands on her lap.

"More than what?"

"I shouldn't."

"I think you should." Alice grins cheekily. "I am risking my life for you, after all."

Mirana elbows her, rolling her eyes. She grows serious again. "You're so much more than just my Champion. You always have been. I do feel something for you, but —" she silences Alice with a look. "There's a lot going on, and I don't know if what I feel for you is really love or romanticized gratitude."

"You keep saying that. What _do_ you know?"

"I… mmm." Mirana hums a little, looking suddenly embarrassed.

"You what?"

"I know that I… I'd like to kiss you again, to see how I feel now."

Alice grins. "You can kiss me whenever you'd like."

Mirana rolls her eyes. "You're impossible." She hums again to herself, thinking. "Close your eyes for me?"

Alice's eyelids flutter shut instantly. She sits there, trying to anticipate the kiss, but nothing prepares her for the feeling of Mirana's lips covering hers once more.

They start as soft, light kisses, tentative, shy, before deepening as Mirana presses against her a bit harder, her hand coming to rest on Alice's thigh. Heat pools in Alice's lower abdomen. She wonders if Mirana knows just how much she's affecting her, and before she realizes what she's doing her hands have come to rest on Mirana's hips. Startled, she makes to move them away but Mirana reaches back and holds them there as she continues to kiss her, parting her lips with her tongue. Taking this as further encouragement, Alice leans back, pulling Mirana with her, until Mirana straddles her hips, never once breaking their dizzying kiss. Alice can taste her cherry lipstick once more, and then something else that is uniquely Mirana. She thinks there's a bit of vanilla in there, but her mind has gone to mush at this point, so caught up in Mirana's lips caressing hers, her tongue exploring her mouth painfully slow. It's all Alice can do to keep her hands respectfully at her waist and not allow them to move upward.

When they do finally have to break apart for air Alice finds herself gazing up at a panting Mirana, eyes partly closed, lips slightly curved, the tiniest bit of a smile on her perfect face. Her lipstick is mostly gone, revealing soft, dusky rose lips, and Alice has no doubt as to where it went. Licking her lips confirms this, and for a moment Alice wonders why lipstick doesn't taste this good straight from the tube.

When their eyes meet, Mirana flushes and crawls off of her. Alice laughs softly.

"That felt like a lot more than, what did you say? Romanticized gratitude?" she teases, trying to hide how extremely turned on she is in this moment. Damn her body.

"I would say the same." Mirana says quietly, smiling at her shyly.

As Alice gazes into those warm, dark eyes, she thinks she sees a hint of something there within them. It's enough to embolden her to say what she does next. "When all this is over, would you like to go out with me sometime?"

Mirana blinks at her. "What?"

"It's clear to me that if we're going to get anywhere with whatever this is, I have to do this the right way. So," she takes Mirana's hands into her own. "Will you go on a date with me, once this is all said and done?"

Mirana studies her eyes for a moment, searching for something, Alice doesn't quite know what. Insincerity, perhaps? The waiting is slowly killing her, but Alice forces herself to be patient.

After what seems like an eternity, Mirana finally says:

"Yes."

 _Rap, rap, rap, rap, rap!_

The knocking startles them both and they leap to their feet.

"Coming!" Mirana calls. Her eyes land on Alice's lips and widen. "Oh my goodness, hold on. Don't open that door yet." She yanks a tissue from the box on her desk and hands it to Alice. "Wipe that off." she commands before going back to her desk to apply a fresh coat onto her own lips.

"I think it looks good on me."

" _Off._ "

Alice snickers to herself, wiping Mirana's lipstick off. The tissue soon becomes stained, and she tosses it into her rubbish bin before peeking through the spy hole at the top of the door. Bayard stands alone, looking left, then right, then left again, his eyes occasionally flickering back to the door, anxious.

Alice pulls the door open, and Bayard practically stumbles through. Once in, he slams the door shut, pressing himself against it to make it click into place faster. His eyes are wild, barely visible under his long fringe, which has gotten considerably messier. His baja sienna brown hoodie is rumpled and torn a bit at the side, and he stands on shaking legs. He slowly lowers himself onto the ground, hugging his knees to his chest, scooting away from the door.

Alice kneels beside him, Mirana joining her. "Bayard, what happened?"

"I don't know what you were thinking, Alice, but you're absolutely insane." Bayard says, panting. "After you two left the Cibus, all Hell broke loose. People taking sides left and right, placing bets on who would win. I made a run for it with Tarrant, Mally, Chess, and Thackery. I was able to get them out alright, but I almost didn't make it. Please tell me you know what you're doing." he pleads, looking at Alice desperately.

Before Alice can answer, there are another set of knocks: _rap, rap, rap, rap, rap!_

Mirana goes to answer it, letting in Tarrant, Thackery, Mally, and Chess. Chess burrows into Mirana's arms while Tarrant, Thackery, and Mally rush to Bayard's side.

Alice helps Bayard up, sitting him on her bed while everyone gathers around him on either side. "I'm going to fight the Jabberwocky, and I'm going to win." she tells him.

Bayard scrunches his nose. "No offense, Alice, but do you even know how to fight? You don't look like you can do much against him."

Alice bites her lip. Right. That bit. "I don't. But I can learn."

Tarrant glares at her, eyes dark. "Ye dornt knoo hoo tae faight?" he says slowly.

Mirana looks between them, panicked. "Tarrant, please."

Tarrant ignores her. He rises, going to stand in front of Alice. "Ye gang an' rin yer gob, an' ye huvnae got th' skills tae back it up?"

Mally furrows her brow. "He's right!"

Thackery comforts Chess, who now looks scared and confused. If he were a real cat, he'd definitely have a puffed up tail and an arched back. Tarrant continues on with his tirade. "Wa cooldnae ye hauld ontae yer cowre fur jist a wee while longer? Wa cooldnae ye jist wait?"

A whirlwind of emotions overtakes Alice, and she clamps her hands over her ears to contain them, but it's no use.

Confusion: Didn't she do the right thing? Isn't this what's supposed to happen?

Hurt: These are supposed to be her friends! They're supposed to be supportive!

Anger: She's risking herself, making a declaration like that! They're not the ones who have to fight the Jabberwocky! They don't have everyone's hopes resting on their shoulders!

"STOP!"

Mirana's voice silences Tarrant's and Mally's. Alice doesn't think she's ever heard her raise her voice like that before, so strong and commanding. When she looks up at Mirana, she is met by a locked jaw, burning eyes, and slightly flaring nostrils. A terrifying sight, one that nearly mirrors Iracebeth's, but while Iracebeth's appears to be more of a tantrum, Mirana's holds a kind of power that can make the angels themselves kneel.

She continues. "Now, I do understand that what Alice did today was rash. But, up until then, we were only prolonging the inevitable. Alice just sped things along. And, out of all of you, she, the one who has known me the _least_ , has stepped forward and put herself in danger, not just for my sake, but for everyone's. So the least we can do is support her, because at this point she is all the hope we have." She gingerly places her hand on Alice's shoulder, slightly bending her wrist to rest it there. They must be healing enough for her to do so. "She is my Champion, and if you won't accept that, then I don't want you beside me any longer."

Tarrant sighs, his eyes lightening as he forces himself to calm down. "I will accept it. I don't really have a choice."

"Me too." Mally says, sinking down beside Tarrant back onto the bed.

Bayard grunts, shifting his weight. "Which begs the question: who is going to teach Alice? None of us know how to fight, I don't think."

 _Bang, bang, bang!_

"More people?" Mirana takes a look through and steps back immediately. "It's the Bandersnatch."

 _Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang!_

"Open up, Kingsleigh! I know you're in there!"

Alice makes for the door, but Mirana forcefully sits her back down, wincing a little. "Don't you dare." she growls, deadly serious.

"He's not with Iracebeth anymore." Alice explains. "He's okay, let me let him in!"

There's some clicks from the knob. Tarrant throws himself against the door, but the Bandersnatch easily shoves it open and slams it shut. Tarrant starts swinging at him, but he just pushes him away as if he's no more than a troublesome fly.

"Calm down, will you? I'm not going to hurt anybody."

"How do we know that's true?" Tarrant snarls.

"Because I would have punched your bloody lights out by now, that's why. Sit the fuck down." he says, pushing Tarrant into a cross-legged position.

"What do you want, Bandersnatch?" Chess taps out with trembling fingers.

The Bandersnatch sighs. "That hasn't been my name for a while. I'm not part of Iracebeth's gang anymore. The lot of them treat me like shit."

"Then why are you here?" Alice asks. "You told me you didn't want to get involved anymore."

The Bandersnatch laughs. "Isn't that what you said, in the beginning? Seems ages ago, right? Let's just say you inspired me, in a way. Putting your life on the line like that, which you are, if you haven't realized that by now, is absolutely mad, and a little bit stupid. But if you're willing to do that much to take Iracebeth down, then maybe you might have a chance. So I'm gonna teach you how to fight. Oh, and don't call me 'Bandersnatch' anymore. I want to leave that behind me. My real name is Baxton."

"Well, er, Baxton," Mirana says, adjusting to the new name. "Do you have any white you could wear, or —"

"Oh no, I'm not doing the whole uniform thing." Baxton says. "I'll appear at your side the day of the fight, but until then, when we're out there, you don't know me, and I sure as hell don't know you. And let's make one thing clear: my loyalty lies with her," he points at Alice. "Not with you."

Mirana purses her lips. "Fair enough. You do understand that there will be someone with both of you at all times when you do come to train her if I can't be there myself?"

Baxton snorts. "Understandable, though I could crush all of you in a second."

"But you won't." Chess taps out.

"No, I won't. I want Iracebeth to lose."

"So, it's a deal then." Mirana says.

"Deal."

Mirana holds out her hand, and Baxton must have shaken it far too firmly, because a tiny hiss escapes her teeth as she pulls back, something anyone else would have missed, had they not been paying attention.

"Can you at least escort them back to their rooms?" Mirana asks. "I'd like to be alone."

Baxton shrugs. "I suppose." He looks at Alice. "We start tomorrow."

Tarrant and Mally follow him out, but Chess remains clamped to Thackery on the bed. Thackery smiles down at him, trying to reassure him as he pries his fingers off and sets him on his feet. Chess leaves, but reluctantly, clinging to Thackery's hand the entire time. Mirana shuts the door behind them, and it is only when a moment has passed when she releases the breath she'd been holding. Neither speak for a little while, until Alice does.

"How are your wrists?"

"Much better, thank you." Mirana sits beside Alice on the bed. "It doesn't hurt so much to bend them now."

"Can I see them?"

Mirana hesitates, then slowly unwraps one of her wrists. The gauze falls away, revealing hundreds of thin, faded red lines running all the way around the wrist, the skin peeling a little at the edges. The sight of the contrast against her pure ivory skin causes Alice's blood to boil, bringing back fresh fantasies of killing Bumby. Which reminds her…

"I told Professor Flora what happened at the asylum."

Mirana pulls her wrist away. "You what?" she says, attempting to keep her tone controlled.

"I told Professor Flora."

"Why? If we were going to handle it, we were supposed to do it ourselves!"

"You weren't planning on it?"

"We're all safe from him now." Mirana tries to explain. "What would the point be in —"

"What about everyone else there? They could easily trade places with us. It could be us in there, but if they think that because they're safe they don't have to do anything, we'd still be in there." Alice sighs. "I understand you not wanting to get anyone else involved in your war. But what's going on with Bumby is bigger than both of us. We need help."

Mirana is quiet for a moment. "Does anyone else know?"

"Professor Alden knows as well."

"Why does he know?"

"I guess Professor Flora trusts him. And she wants to know if you, Tarrant, and Mason are willing to testify."

"Can this wait? We've still got to deal with your fight."

Alice considers it. "I suppose."

Mirana twines their fingers together, rubbing small circles on the back of Alice's hand with her thumb. "I'm glad it's you." she says softly. She settles down a little, laying to rest her head on Alice's shoulder. She smiles up at her. "I couldn't have chosen a better Champion."

Alice smiles back at her, but on the inside her stomach is churning, twisting into knots. Everyone is counting on her, Mirana most at all.

She hopes she doesn't fail.


	16. Training

**16**

Alice lands on her back for the tenth time that day. If only this were a fencing match! Learning to fight with her fists is like learning from scratch. She has no idea what she's doing, and despite the pillow strapped to her chest and the helmet on her head, she's still feeling a considerable amount of pain.

Baxton shifts his weight, bouncing on the balls of his feet, fists raised. "AGAIN!" he commands.

Alice pushes herself off the floor with a grunt. The practice room they've chosen is fairly spacious once the piano had been moved out, but Baxton had insisted that Mally, acting as their chaperone, would watch from the outside. After being knocked around the entire space for the past hour, Alice can see why. She raises her fists again just before Baxton makes another swing at her. She goes for his gut, but he dodges her just as fast, leaping out of the way only to come in towards her head. She ducks and swings, managing to catch him between the ribs for a split second before he dodges her again.

"C'mon, Kingsleigh." he growls. "Your fight is Friday. Stop dancing around and hit me!"

"I'm. Trying." she pants, hurling her fist only to have it blocked yet again.

"James is a lot cleverer than me." Baxton says, catching her leg and knocking her feet out from under her. "He's not afraid to fight dirty. If you can't even beat me," he makes to stomp on her side, but Alice rolls away and back onto her feet. "You might as well slit your own throat."

Alice lunges, only to hit the wall once again. Baxton roars with laughter. "Mirana chose _you_?" He snorts. "She must be desperate. Or stupid. Or both. You're tickling me here."

Alice growls and lands a punch square on his jaw, forcing him to stumble back a few steps. How _dare_ he? She easily ducks his next swing at her head, landing a kick to his stomach. She leaps over his counterstrike, bouncing off his back and landing behind him. Not giving him the chance to turn around, she shoves her foot into his back, forcing him down with newfound strength. Baxton slams into the ground but wastes no time and rolls out from under her foot. He grins.

"Oh, so you _can_ fight. All I have to do is insult your girlfriend."

Alice's eyes widen, startled out of her sudden rage. "She's not my girlfriend!" she sputters out. How could he think -? Are there cameras in their room? Did he see Mirana pull her into that closet?

Baxton snorts. "Oh, and I'm supposed to believe the way you look at her clearly isn't disgustingly lovesick? There were at least four other people in your room yesterday, and you didn't take your eyes off her once. That, and she touches you more than anyone else."

"How-?" Alice forces her jaw to close to a more reasonable degree. "Why are you watching us?"

"I'm observant. And your voice going up so much isn't helping your case much, either." Baxton moves over to unzip his backpack. "Take the armour off. We're done with that bit of training for today."

Alice loosens the straps holding the pillow to her chest before slipping it off. She really needs to stop being so obvious, at least until she and Mirana are actually together. "What else is there to do?" she asks, unclasping her helmet.

"James is a poisoner, first and foremost. He's more of a dodger when it comes to physical fighting, which is why he won't hesitate to use his specialty to his advantage." Baxton pulls out three bottles. "When he's faced with things like this, these are his usual tools."

Alice frowns, stepping closer to examine the bottles: car battery acid, bleach, and ammonia. Not exactly things to be taken lightly. "Things like this?"

"You think you're the first one to challenge Iracebeth?"

"I thought-"

"You thought wrong." Baxton rezips his bag. "The last person to challenge Iracebeth _died_. No one could trace it back to James, so there was nothing other than a funeral. Which reminds me: get your food outside of school from now on, and definitely don't take _anything_ anyone offers you. Nothing's safe here. James can be everywhere and nowhere all at once."

"There's been others?"

Baxton chortles. "I tell you that there's a very good chance your own food may be poisoned, and you latch onto the fact that others before you have fought in Mirana's honour? There's no need to be jealous, Kingsleigh. She's never been this way with any of her past Champions. She didn't look at them the same way she looks at you."

"I didn't say I was jealous." Alice mutters, flushing, but silently grateful that she seems to be the only one to have captured Mirana's heart.

"You didn't have to. You're an awful liar."

"So I've been told." She picks up the ammonia bottle, feeling the weight of it in her hand. "What are we doing with these?"

"I'm going to throw some at you, and you're going to avoid getting hit, assuming you don't want to die."

Alice nearly drops the bottle, catching it just in time and setting it on the floor with the others. "What? We can't practice with water?"

Baxton unzips a smaller pouch and takes out a box of plastic bags and metal ties. A pair of thick, brown leather gloves follow. He rolls his eyes. "Sure. You can bring a water gun to the fight too, while you're at it." He closes the pouch and locks eyes with her. "If we're doing this, we're doing it right. So I need you to tell me now if you're really ready to stick your neck out to overthrow Iracebeth, or if you're just going to crawl back into that sheltered shell and watch the rest of us suffer."

Alice locks her jaw, biting back any retort she might have come up with, because despite how rigorous all this is, Baxton is right. She thrusts the ammonia into his hand and steps back, getting into a fighting stance — fists raised, left foot back, right foot forward. Baxton grins at that and fills the first bag with ammonia. After tying it off and putting on the gloves, he slits it quickly and hurls it at her without warning.

 _SPLAT!_

The bag slams against the wall seconds after Alice manages to duck out of the way, the liquid dripping down from where it hit and pooling onto the carpet. The vapor fills the air, and Alice's eyes begin to tear up, but she doesn't say anything to Baxton in case he tries to use that as further ammunition. She ignores the stinging, burning sensation as another bag flies toward her chest, leaping to the left. Her vision blurs, but she continues, dodging bag after bag. Her throat is tightening, like someone is crushing her windpipe slowly, painfully. Baxton is relentless, barely giving her a chance to recover before he hurls the next bag, filling each one with a surprising lightning speed. Tears roll down her cheeks as her eyes overflow. It's burning her eyes. There's so much.

She moves too late on the next, barely able to see it. A few drops splash her arm, and she howls, the skin burning right away. Baxton stops immediately, dropping the bag in his hand and forcing the door open. He shoves Alice out of the room, she herself barely registering his hands on her back as she falls to the floor outside. Mally rushes to her side as Baxton slams the door behind him. Bile rises in her throat. Her vision is swimming, her head is pounding. Colours fade in and out. She hears Mally yell her name, feels Baxton shake her…

And then there's just blackness.

* * *

The first thing her eyes register is the head of platinum blonde hair resting on her chest and the slender, pale fingers entwined with hers. A soft aroma of vanilla bean tickles her nose, and before Alice can stop herself she's buried her face in it, pressing her lips to the top of the head, smiling despite herself. Her surroundings don't even register with her.

Mirana lifts her head and smiles gently at Alice. Her fingers thread through her wild blonde hair, untangling a few locks. "Good morning." she says sweetly.

Alice smiles back at her, then realizes what she's said. "Morning?" She glances around her rapidly. Sickly, yellow tiled walls. Bleach white paper thin sheets. A metal cart with an assortment of bottles and full bags full of clear liquid. She feels a plastic mask on her face, a pouch sitting on her collarbone, tubes stemming from the mask running across her chest, leading to another pouch of clear substance hanging above her head. She lays back, groaning, now painfully aware of the sound of her breathing, puffing and clouding up the pouch on her chest. The place where the drops splashed her arm are angry, red sores, and it's nearly enough to make her feel sick again. "Fuck. What happened?"

"Well, Mally said that you passed out after your session with Baxton." Her eyes darken to nearly black. "The only reason I haven't had him killed is because he's the one that carried you here while Mally ran ahead to get you seen as soon as possible."

"Hey, hey." Alice says, recapturing Mirana's hand. The darkness in her eyes sends an uneasiness throughout her body, and she makes sure to quell it, drawing little circles on the back of her hand. "I know what I signed up for. I'm alive, aren't I?"

Mirana sighs. "I know. I really don't want you to do this. You fight tomorrow. I should just —"

Alice presses her finger hard against those dark cherry lips. "Don't say it. You're not going to. This is my decision, and I say I'm still going through with it."

Mirana nips her finger in retaliation. "Fine." she says, annoyed but with a hint of a smile. "But we're getting you some protective clothing as well as a mask." She glances at the door. "You've got visitors."

She makes to get up, but Alice keeps her seated. "Wait." she says. She moves the mask off her face, pushing it down to her chin. Mirana starts to protest, but Alice shushes her, leaning in and pressing her lips gently against hers, caressing, loving. She feels Mirana smile into it and twine her fingers in her hair once more. When she pulls back, she's got a dazed smile on her face. "I'm glad I woke up with you here."

Mirana flushes. "Me too." She pushes the mask back up. "Don't do that again until you're better." she mock-scolds.

"Promise?" Alice asks with a smile.

Mirana swats her arm, and with a roll of her eyes, goes to open the door. Tarrant and Mason go in, Mason launching himself into Alice's arms, causing her to grunt from his sudden weight.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

"Okay enough." Alice says.

Tarrant sits at the edge of the bed. "You're absolutely mad, Alice, you know that?"

Alice grins. "No more than you are."

Mason peers over at Mirana. "Mirana, your lipstick is smudged."

Mirana colours. "O-oh, is it?"

"Yeah, especially around your lower lip."

Alice bites back a smirk and instead locks eyes with Mirana, licking the residual lipstick off her lips before the boys can see exactly where it went. Mirana shoots her a glare, a "don't-you-dare-say-anything-or-I'll-murder-you" look, as she goes to stand by her side.

"We came to check on you," Tarrant says, stopping any further conversation on that subject. "And we also have some news. Professor Flora —"

Mason halts him. "Can I tell them?" Tarrant looks a little surprised, but he nods. Mason sits up, facing them both. "I wanted to know where my parents went. Why no one ever came looking for me, why I was left for so long. None of it made sense. They _loved_ me. So I bothered Professor Flora about it, since she's the only one I really know here that might know something, until she finally told me. Well, she showed me, actually." He gnaws at the inside of his cheek, remembering reading through the article, then the file showing his current parentage. "I don't want to be Bumby's son, even if not by blood. I don't want him to have any claim over me at all. So I asked her if someone else could adopt me." He looks at them meaningfully. "She said she'd be more than happy to, if I wanted."

"Mason, that's wonderful!" Mirana hugs him tightly. "You said yes, didn't you?"

Mason squirms a little. "Well, no. I didn't give her a definite answer yet."

Alice frowns. Professor Flora is a lovely woman; why wouldn't he jump at the chance? "Why not?" she asks.

"Mason hasn't known her for as long as we have." Tarrant explains.

"It might seem stupid, but I don't want her to be like Bumby later, because Bumby started out nice too." Mason says sheepishly.

Alice reigns in the urge to tell Mason how insulting it is to even compare Professor Flora to Bumby. "That's… understandable." And it is.

"Well, you don't have to say yes right away, but I can vouch for her personally." Mirana says. "She's trustworthy."

"Thank you." Mason says. "That really helps." He thinks for a moment, and his eyes light up. "Wait, why don't your parents adopt me? You could be my sister!"

Alice and Mirana exchange a look. Someone clearly didn't tell this kid that if that were the case not only would he have Mirana as a sister, but Iracebeth as well. Not to mention the conservative nature of their parents.

"While that would be lovely, Mason," Mirana says. "I don't think it'd be the best idea."

"Why?"

"Iracebeth is my sister. You would be her brother as well."

Mason pales. "Oh." He stares down at his lap, fiddling with his fingers. "Never mind then."

"Why don't you go spend some time with Professor Flora, get to know her better?" Tarrant suggests. "That way you can decide sooner."

Mason nods. "I guess. I'll see you lot around."

He pulls the bill of his hat down over his eyes and leaves. Tarrant lies down, a deep sigh escaping him as he relaxes.

"That's really good news." Alice says. "For Mason."

"Yes, I'm glad." Tarrant props himself up on his elbows. "Are you prepared for tomorrow, Alice?"

Alice tries not to give away her uncertainty. "I believe so."

Of course, Tarrant doesn't buy it. "I can go in your place." he offers. "It's not too late to make the switch. The Red Queen can't do anything about it if we do."

Alice furrows her brow. First Mirana, now Tarrant? "Honestly? Do you both really believe in me so little? I said I'll do it, I'm _doing_ it. Baxton has been a wonderful help, and now I have an idea of what it is I'm going up against. We shouldn't be talking about who's fighting the Jabberwocky, because it's too late for that now. I'm tired of running that path over and over again. It's a dead end in a maze of possibilities! What we should be talking about is what I'm wearing tomorrow so I don't _die_ from this, and how I'm going to get him to submit, because I am _not_ going to kill him. We are better than Iracebeth. This fight will not end in death, but surrender."

There's a bit of silence, then:

"Wow, Alice." Tarrant says. "You ought to run for Prime Minister."

Alice chortles. "I'd rather not be trapped in a stuffy office, thank you."

Mirana smiles fondly at her. "No, that would be awful." She grows serious. "Well, we're going to layer you, obviously. Long sleeves are a must."

"Leather is essential as well." Tarrant chimes in. "Real, thick leather. I can make you a jacket and gloves."

"The pants should be flexible. You'll need to be fast when you're fighting him. A tight pair of leggings?"

Tarrant nods. "Shoes don't matter too much, as long as you can move in them."

"She'll need a helmet as well."

"We can go shopping later while she recovers."

Alice smiles as Mirana and Tarrant discuss more details of her battle suit. Finally, they're really getting somewhere.

It's a few hours later when they finally wrap up the last few aspects of the outfit. It's going to be leather heavy, mostly, and Tarrant's going to be making all of it to make sure it's tailored to Alice. They plan to head onto Crofton to pick up the material. Alice can do nothing but lie back and try to gather some strength. They make to leave, but Mirana tells Tarrant to go ahead. He gives her a strange look, but goes to wait outside. As soon as the door closes, Mirana sits at Alice's bedside and begins to run her fingers through her hair.

"I won't lie, I do miss your long hair." she admits, her fingers lingering a little by her cheek.

Alice grins sheepishly. "Sorry." She leans into Mirana's touch, closing her eyes a little. "Maybe you should stay here until it grows back."

Mirana giggles. "You're awful." Her hand comes to rest on one cheek while she brings the other hand to cup the other, forcing Alice to look at her, and her alone. "Promise me something?"

Alice sighs. "As if I could tell you no."

"You have, actually."

"You know what I mean."

Mirana laughs. "Mmmhmm. Promise me, that if you feel you're going to die, that you will surrender. The scholarship won't be worth it anymore if I lose you. Nothing is worth more than your life."

"That's not exactly an 'I love you', but I'll take it."

"Alice."

"Alright, alright. I promise."

"Thank you."

Alice chuckles. "I really do love you, you know that?"

"I do, and it frightens me a bit just how much."

"In a good way?"

"In a good way."

"Then I'm not sorry for that."

Mirana looks at her meaningfully. "So, you truly promise?"

Alice moves one of Mirana's hands from her cheeks, twining their fingers together. "I truly promise."

"Good." Mirana leans in and presses a soft kiss to her forehead, and Alice smiles at the feel of those soft lips against her skin.

Yet underneath the scratchy hospital sheets, the fingers on Alice's other hand are crossed tightly.


	17. Frabjous Day

**17**

Alice surveys the outfit lying on her bed while Mirana prepares for her own appearance across the room. She can feel the weight of it just by looking at it. Thick, silver leather forms a full-body suit trimmed in white and stiff gloves tipped ivory. The shoulders are heavily padded and ridged, the pants patterned after a chainmail style fading into a soft shimmering gradient further down. Upon turning the top piece over, Alice finds that Tarrant has ironed on a large patch unlike anything she's ever seen before.

The patch features a black and white chessboard, a pile of broken red chess pieces sitting atop it. Sticking out is the king piece, but the top is snapped off and sits apart from the rest, stabbed into the board. Standing on top of the defeated red army are two white chess pieces — a knight and a queen, facing each other. On the knight, there is a clearly distinguished _A_ and an unmistakable _M_ on the queen. Above the entire scene, the words "Frabjous Day" are stitched in white, fancy scripted letters. Alice smiles. How fitting. Lewis Carroll describes Frabjous Day is a day of celebration, and in a way, Tarrant is already celebrating the victory he's hoping will arrive. The realization simultaneously fills her with joy and dread. She has to win this. She has to.

She pulls on the outfit, the leather weighing her down almost immediately, and it takes her a moment to adjust to the bulk of it on her shoulders. She picks out her sturdiest shoes — a pair of black sneakers — and pull them on over her socks. The gloves go on last, the caterpillar pin stuck safely on the inside of the jacket. There is no helmet to be seen. Perhaps Mirana might know.

She walks with noticeable thumps in her step so as not to startle Mirana, placing her hands on either side of the backrest of the chair. She forgets her question when their eyes meet in the mirror set up on her desk.

Mirana's hair seems brighter than usual, closer to white rather than platinum blonde. It falls about her shoulders, cascading in gentle waves, a section of it braided in a crown around her head and a few tresses braided throughout. A white lace choker dotted with pearls adorns her neck. She wears her signature black cherry lipstick and subtle dusty rose shadow. The dress she wears is the same one from the day they first met, the short snowy one that billows out at the skirt. Without the cardigan, Alice can see the sleeves end halfway down her shoulders and are trimmed with pearls at the seams. Her feet are bare, a pair of white flats beside them beneath the desk. Alice's eyes wander back up to Mirana's, and the White Queen graces her with a breathtaking smile, reaching back and interlacing their fingers together, soft and warm.

"You're beautiful." Alice breathes out before she can help herself.

Mirana laughs softly, a quiet little burble of sound. "Thank you. So are you, my knight in shining armour."

Alice smiles. "My perfect Queen."

"Perfect?" Mirana chuckles. "I wouldn't say that."

"I would." She leans down and rests her chin on Mirana's head. "We make a strange pair, don't we?"

"In all the best ways." She glances at the clock. 11:50. "I have to appear soon."

Alice's eyes follow hers. "And then I follow?"

"And then you follow."

Mirana pushes back in her chair and stands, never once letting go of Alice's hand. She pushes the chair in as an afterthought, going around it to stand in front of Alice. Having her so close, the smell of vanilla turns Alice's brain to mush. After everything, Mirana still manages to overwhelm and excite her. Those warm, dark brown eyes draw her in, and she's leaning in close, tilting her head up until her forehead touches hers, eyelids fluttering shut. She could stay here forever. She feels Mirana cock her head to one side, her hands moving to her waist, as she leans in the rest of the way. She feels a single, minty breath against her lips before Mirana covers them with her own soft petals. Her arms drift up to wrap around her neck, pulling her closer, bodies flush against each other. It's warm and sweet and soft and gentle, yet at the same time it conveys something deeper in its tenderness. Alice doesn't dare give it a name, because for once she doesn't want to overthink this.

And then it's over far too soon. Mirana reluctantly pulls away first, drawing a discontented groan from Alice. Mirana laughs at her annoyance, pressing their foreheads together. "You're going to make me late."

"You started it." Alice mumbles.

She giggles, giving her a quick peck on the lips, before letting go of her entirely. "I'll see you out there." she says with a resigned smile. "Tarrant will be here to escort you soon."

And just like that, she's gone, a flurry of snow and dizzying enchantment out the door.

Alice has a good look at herself in the mirror and smiles. She hopes Mirana brought a spare tube of lipstick with her. She licks the stuff off her lips, tasting Mirana a second time. It leaves her wanting more.

There's a knock at her door a few minutes later. Alice opens it without thinking, and the door is viciously shoved open the rest of the way. Stayne slams the door behind him, leaning against it to catch his breath. He wears a black leather vest with a red heart patch stitched onto the chest, and underneath that, a black and red striped cotton shirt, both buttons undone. His pants are maroon, shredded as usual, and his fingerless gloves are a faded shade the same colour. His combat boots are laced through with red laces. Despite being decked out in full support of Iracebeth, his first words surprise her as he falls to his knees at her feet.

"I can't live this lie anymore, Kingsleigh!"

Alice steps back, revolted. "What are you playing at?"

"I have been living a lie. From the day I first saw you, I knew that I could not be completely faithful to Iracebeth any longer. You made me see how blind I've been." He reaches out to hug her legs, but Alice lets him fall to the floor. No way in Hell is he touching her. He looks up at her desperately. "I'm in —"

"Shut up!" Alice yells, effectively cutting him off. She glares at his pathetic little form, on his hands and knees. "Don't even finish that thought, because I know it isn't true."

"But it is —!"

"No!" Alice steels herself with a calming breath. "Get out, Stayne. Whatever you have to say, I'm not interested."

"We could run away together!"

Alice hauls him off the floor with a sudden burst of strength, fueled by pure hatred. She flings open the door and throws him out. "I said no." she growls. "I'm already bound to someone else."

Stayne starts snickering. "It's Mirana, isn't it? The ice cold White Queen. You're making a mistake with her, Kingsleigh." He rises. "Join me. We're both powerful. We could easily overthrow them both."

 _CR-ACK!_

Alice's fist collides with Stayne's ribs, snapping two. Stayne stumbles back, aghast, hissing in pain. "Leave." she snarls. "Go crawl back to Iracebeth, and you'd better hope I don't say anything about this to her."

Stayne spits it her, angry defeat in his eyes, before turning away. Alice slams the door shut as soon as he's gone. She buries her face in her hands. Loyalties have always been fickle in the Red Queen's gang, save for the obvious exception, the Jabberwocky, but Stayne is the last person she'd expect to do something like this. He must be a power magnet, one who only stays on the side with the most power, regardless of previous loyalties. The thought makes Alice smile a little, despite everything. If Stayne is desperate enough to pull that kind of move, then Iracebeth must really believe that she's a threat to her reign of terror. That means she really does stand a chance!

Another knock at her door. She checks the spyhole this time, not wanting a repeat performance from Stayne or anyone else, and is relieved to see Tarrant waiting there instead, and opens the door for him.

Tarrant is wearing a spectacular ensemble of colour splashed everywhere. He wears a faded denim jacket similar to the one Alice herself has, except this one is patched at the elbows as well as the cuffs with white and there's a silver arrow pinned to the chest pocket. He wears a bright blue turtleneck mottled with splashes of light green, and around his neck there is a pink, white, black, and grey spotted scarf tied in the shape of a bow. He's got on bright orange striped corduroys that somehow complement his sweater and a pair of big brown shoes tipped black. His signature hat is perched jauntily on his head, a fresh salmon ribbon tied around it. Under his arm he carries a white motorcycle helmet, a creme knight chess piece in the center, clear as day.

"Ready?" he asks with a nervous smile.

"As ready as I'll ever be." She accepts the helmet from him graciously, fitting it to her head. It's a bit snug, the padding pushing down on both sides of her head, but it will definitely protect her from any tricks James may have up his sleeve.

Tarrant embraces her one last time before they leave her dorm room. This is it.

* * *

The gathering in front of the Founder's statue is massive. A sea of red and black nearly swallows the small gathering of white, but they stand proud and strong nonetheless. Mally wears a simple white dress tied off with a thin black belt. Bayard and Thackery both wear matching black and white flannels paired with black pants. Tommy and Timmy wear plain white tee shirts and blue overalls. They smile at Alice and wave enthusiastically. Mason is nowhere in sight, but someone else has reappeared — Nivens.

An overwhelming wave of guilt washes over Alice. Nivens appears to have recovered, but the dark circles carved beneath his eyes and the redness at his waterlines reveals so much more pain that his clean cut appearance lets on. His hair is styled impeccably into his usual side part; not a strand out of place. He wears a white short sleeved button up, charcoal slacks, a brown belt, and a pair of well worn Oxfords. His pocketwatch pokes out of his tweed vest pocket, shining in the afternoon sun.

Alice rushes over to him, leaving Tarrant behind.

"Nivens, I am so sorry, I —"

"Don't, Alice." Nivens halts her. "Mirana already explained everything. It's alright."

His voice sounds older now, more stern. Alice gapes. "Your stutter!"

He smiles wanly. "Yes, I finally, finally conquered it. We can talk later, if you'd like, but hopefully you'll conquer that bitch Iracebeth in the same way."

"Nivens." Mirana says firmly, brushing past him. "Please, don't say that." She turns to Alice. "But yes, we're all counting on you to win."

Alice laughs dryly. "No pressure." She glances behind her. "Where's Mason?"

"Talking with Professor Flora." Mirana explains. "They're getting to know each other, and it's going really well. I think he's found a new home." She thinks for a moment. "I'm glad he's with her; I didn't want him to see this."

A poke at the back of her leg nearly makes Alice jump a foot in the air. She whips around to find Chess in a fluffy blue and white sweater and jeans, and, to her surprise, sporting a hat of his own — an aegean blue bowler hat patterned with hand sewn silver stars and tied round the middle with a black satin ribbon. He grins up at her and hugs her tight around her legs before running off to join Thackery and Mally, his way of saying "good luck".

Alice can't help but grin. "You finally made him a hat." she says to Tarrant.

Tarrant shrugs. "I thought it was the proper time."

Someone pushes past her. Baxton. Despite his disgust with uniformity before, he's wearing a white v-neck t-shirt and jeans, his hair somewhat tidy but streaked through with grease from a clear attempt to style it.

"Sorry I'm late." he grunts, taking his place on Alice's other side while Mirana remains at her right.

A shrieking guitar cuts through the noise of the crowd before Alice can give him any snarky response of a sort, and everyone's attention is drawn to the source several yards back from the statue.

The procession looks like a bloody coronation. Two other students dressed in red and black carry Iracebeth on their shoulders. She has black lace woven through her bright red hair, and her dress is a dark maroon trimmed with more black lace down the sides, fanning out to a scarlet skirt patterned with ebony hearts that's short in the front, long in the back. Her stilettos dig into the bodies of her carriers, but if they have any discomfort it's cleverly concealed. Stayne leads them, carrying a massive wireless speaker, and the Jabberwocky follows behind with a long, lean stride. He's similarly dressed to Alice but in all black with much lighter material, and rather than a motorcycle helmet he has a gas mask, the lenses stained purple to match the streaks in his hair. He carries two heavy looking lime green spray cans labeled with the standard white skull and crossbones, and over his shoulder a red canvas bag with a black knight painted on the side.

The music fades down to a somewhat quiet murmur when they reach the center of the crowd. The Jabberwocky rushes to the front as the two students carrying Iracebeth crouch down for her to step onto his back, Stayne offering his hand to help her the rest of the way down.

The two sisters meet each other on opposite ends of the statue. Red and white, stark contrasts on the extremities of their respective sides. Neither sister betrays her true feelings, blank canvases conceal expressions of fear, of hatred, of sorrow, of regret. Nivens steps forward, a noticeable strength in his gait, and stands between them.

He clears his throat and produces a small, rolled up piece of paper from his trouser pocket, and reads, "On this Frabjous Day, queens, Red and White, shall send forth their Champions to do battle on their behalf."

" 'Racie," Mirana says suddenly. "We don't have to fight. Please, we can end this now, no one has to get hurt on either of our —"

Iracebeth cuts her off. "I know what you're doing." she says, glaring at her little sister. "You think you can blink those pretty little eyes, and I'll melt, just like Mummy and Daddy did."

"Please." Mirana pleads earnestly.

It's a last ditch effort, an effort doomed to fail. Iracebeth colours a brilliant shade of scarlet. "No!" she bellows. "I own this school! I am the eldest!" She thrusts a heavily manicured, pointed finger forward, past Mirana and at Alice. "Jabberwocky!"

The Jabberwocky rises from his bowed position on the ground, straightening up. The sisters exchange one last look, Mirana, heavy with sadness, Iracebeth, fiery with rage, before they move aside to their respective armies, Nivens following Mirana. The two sides form a ring around the opposing Champions, tight enough to bar any thoughts of flight, but large enough so the toxins cannot affect them directly. Alice takes a deep breath and matches the Jabberwocky's pace until they stand only a few feet apart in the exact positions their queens had stood seconds before.

"Ready to die, Kingsleigh?" His malicious smile is evident in his voice, as he flicks the caps off of the cans. "I'm going to enjoy this immensely."

"Enjoy what? Losing?" Alice snaps back. "Why don't you go back to that glorified rosebush? Maybe she'll even let you lick the dirt off her heels!"

The Jabberwocky growls and lunges at her, spraying both cans at once. Alice narrowly dodges him, rolling to the other side and landing on her feet into a crouch. She can feel the heat through her layers, and something tells her that he's already torn past the initial barrier. Must be some sort of acid.

She doesn't have much time to think about it, because the Jabberwocky is rushing at her again, ripping off the very top of one of the cans. Just as he's about to fling the contents at her, Alice shoves his arm backwards, drenching his jacket in the stuff. It burns right through the material, massive holes spreading in the fabric revealing skin rapidly turning red. The Jabberwocky howls, tossing the can aside, and lands a kick to Alice's stomach, knocking the wind out of her, her body colliding with the pavement with a heavy _smack!_ Breathing hard, she doesn't have time to react when he slams his foot into her ribs, shoving the bones towards her back and pulling a strangled hiss from her lips as sharp pains spread from the area. He leans down and grabs both sides of her helmet, ready to rip it off, when something hits him with a loud _thump_!

He whips around, giving Alice time to get up and away. She follows his eyes to see Tarrant pretending to be very much interested in adjusting his hat, then sees a clear case full of various threads at the Jabberwocky's feet. Maybe it's the tension in the air and the possibility that she might die, but Alice bursts out laughing despite herself. The laughter hurts her upper body even more, but she just doesn't care.

Iracebeth isn't so amused. "The Hatter is interfering!" she shrieks. "Off with his head!"

Her shrill voice shatters the moment, and both sides surge together, one defending, the other attacking, yet still maintaining a sort of circle around the main fight. Alice takes advantage of the Jabberwocky's temporary distraction and throws a punch into his back, leather colliding with skin. He yells, falling forward, barely managing to break his fall palms first. He whips around and sprays wildly. Alice's lungs begin to burn, throat tightening, and she stumbles back, breathing hard as she tries to focus on the clean air inside her helmet, which is rapidly becoming a furnace, her hair sticking to her face with the accumulating sweat. She swings blindly, managing to knock the can from the Jabberwocky's hand as he regains his balance. He wastes no time retrieving the fallen weapon and instead leaps at her, taking them both to the ground. His knees squeeze her sides and his bag smacks her helmet, knocking her head and sending a pain through her eye. His spindly fingers wrap around her neck tightly, thumbs pressing down, nails digging in. Alice gasps, trying to force air into her lungs but finding the pipe blocking. She's going to throw up. Her lungs are cracking, tears streaming down her face. She swings and rams her knuckles into his neck, colliding with his Adam's apple. He releases her instantly, shocked, and Alice uses it to her advantage once more and slams her fist into his crotch.

He screams and rolls off of her, clutching himself. Alice leaps onto her feet, taking a minute to gulp in precious air. It's barely returning to normal as the Jabberwocky digs into his bag. She's got to get his mask off. He's invincible as long as it's on, much like herself. She pulls her helmet down tighter, taking several quick breaths just in time for her enemy to pull out what appear to be red heart shaped grenades.

Rapid fire they go, one, two, three! Exploding in bursts of white powder, it burns at her shoulders and her legs, seeping through her armour. Alice is practically twirling about trying not to get hit directly, panting at the exertion. One, two, three! Duck, slide, jump! She lands on her feet hard, plunging imaginary knives into her toes. She hisses at the jarring impact.

"Training for the ballet, Kingsleigh?" the Jabberwocky leers, catching his breath.

"At least I've got the spine for it." Alice fires back.

"What?" The Jabberwocky cocks his head.

"Uhhm, well — never mind!" Alice shakes off more powder, biting back a groan when some runs inside the back of the jacket. "What is in those things?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" he says, a smirk in his voice. He begins to circle her, and Alice has no choice but to join him, unwilling to turn her back on him for even a second. "I'm so much cleverer than you, Kingsleigh. How could Mirana ever choose someone so stupid?"

Alice growls and hunches down, rushing at him, arms around his legs and knocking him to the ground. She knows she's just been baited, but she doesn't care. She hooks her fingers around one side of his mask just as he grabs both sides of her helmet.

 _RIP!_

 _CLUNK!_

The barriers are torn away, Alice's helmet rolling far out of her reach and the Jabberwocky's mask flying in the opposite direction. The fresh air is a blessing for them both, being trapped in their respective containments for so long. The two Champions are finally able to look into each other's eyes, burning with intense hatred for the other. They spring back from each other, circling once more but this time much more cautious. They try faking each other out, Alice pretending to lunge but leaping back at the last minute, the Jabberwocky nearly withdrawing his hand from the bag but never lifting in from the canvas container.

"I'd surrender, if I were you." the Jabberwocky says, a crooked smile revealing pointed teeth.

"Never." Alice snarls.

"Not even for this?"

The Jabberwocky pulls out a pistol, a Glock 23.

And suddenly the chaos of the surrounding clashes becomes a dull roar.

Alice's heart nearly stops at the sight of the gun. Surely it's not really loaded? He's mad, the Jabberwocky is absolutely mad!

The Jabberwocky cackles maniacally at her horrified expression. "Oh, this was so worth it. All this buildup just to see your face! I truly did not think I'd have to use this, but you're much stronger than I thought. Do you like it?" He runs a hand fondly over the barrel. "It's been so long since I've been able to put my Vorpal bullets to proper use. One perfect shot," He points the gun straight at Alice's heart. "And you die instantly."

"You've lost your head." Alice breathes, eyes locked on the finger that hovers dangerously over the trigger.

"No, you're going to lose yours. Unless, of course," He grins malevolently. "You surrender, and pledge fealty to the one, true Queen."

Alice calculates at a harried pace. If she throws herself to the ground, she'll buy herself some time after the Jabberwocky fires to get the gun away from him. She's got to be fast, no time to second guess.

So she locks eyes with her fearsome foe, and, throwing caution headfirst into the wind, spits at him.

Everything happens so fast.

The Vorpal bullet sings as it flies from the barrel. Alice drops to the pavement, hearing the deadly weapon whistle past her ear, nearly grazing her shoulder. The air isn't so toxic now, slowly having grown accustomed to it, and she swings her leg up, kicking him right in the crotch. He shrieks, and Alice manages to rip the gun from his hand. She shoves him into a kneeling position, shoving the barrel against the side of his head. He freezes, locking his jaw, and it is only then that Alice sees that everyone else has stopped, awaiting her next move.

The students are all bloody and bruised, save for the Queens. They look at her expectantly, earnestly, and Alice realizes that they all just want this to end, that they don't care which side wins anymore, not truly, they just want it all to be over.

"What are you waiting for!" the Jabberwocky yells. "Do it! Kill me!"

Alice wants to. She oh so desperately wants to, for all the hell he's put her and this school through. She wants to make him feel all the pain he's caused and more. She seethes silently, her finger hovering over the trigger just as his had done.

Then, of all the eyes in the crowd, she finds Mirana's.

The White Queen looks positively terrified of what her Champion may do. Her dark eyes are wide, hands over her heart. Alice's own heart suddenly feels heavier than any burden she's ever carried. She can't. She'd be no better than the monarch they're both trying so desperately to overthrow.

And so, Alice Kingsleigh steps away from the Jabberwocky, lowering the gun. "No." she says firmly. "I'm not like you." She glares at him. "It's over, James." she spits his real name, at last tearing down the final piece of his armour.

The Jabberwocky's jaw drops as cheers erupt from the crowd, both sides elated. Wearers of both red and white embrace each other, shedding tears of joy. Alice catches Mirana's eye once more and they smile, broad and radiant. It's taking everything within her power not to dash over and take her into her arms.

"STOP!"

Iracebeth sprints as best she can in such high shoes, pulling her wounded Champion to her side. "You hurt my Jabber-baby-wocky!" She looks to those wearing red and black. "Off with her head!"

Tarrant chuckles, stepping out from the crowd. "They don't answer to you anymore, Bloody Big Head."

He grins and does a strange sort of jig, a dance that mocks yet brings joy to all that watch, turning his head this way and that, rolling his wrists, and swiveling his feet in ways that should be impossible. His eyes are wild, light, and happy, happier than Alice has ever seen them in a long time. He finishes with a turn and a tip of his hat to Mirana.

A roar of laughter sounds. Stayne makes to charge at Tarrant, but the two students that had been carrying Iracebeth before, now no longer afraid, grab him and restrain him. Iracebeth lets out a strangled sob before making a fast retreat with her slave at her side, padding after her like a dog. The crowd cheers once more. Mirana makes her way to the center, and Nivens presents her with a small silver tiara with white stones, snapping the gold tiara embedded with rubies. The White Queen is positively radiant, smiling happily upon a new day, a new reign.

Alice sways on the spot, only now feeling the weight of the battle and the pain that comes with it, only for Tarrant to catch her. He holds her to his side, pulling her away from the crowd, away from Mirana.

Alice drags her feet, a weak sort of resistance. "No, I need to stay." she mumbles.

Tarrant laughs. "Your work here is done, Alice. Now, you need a bath and some rest."

"Mmmph." she grumbles. She wants to be with Mirana right now more than anything, but he's probably right. "What was that dance?"

"That? That, my friend, was my Futterwacken."


	18. A Splash of Colour

**18**

Alice applies the salve Tarrant had so generously picked up for her hours before. It cools her heated skin, a welcome breeze over the fires on her arms and legs. She glances at the shirt she'd laid out, then decides against it. The last thing she wants is to smear all this and ruin a perfectly good Zeppelin shirt. She folds it up and places it with the rest of her clothes. She can sleep in a bra and sweats tonight.

The door opens softly. Mirana looks extremely exhausted, but she's happy. Alice opens her arms and Mirana enters the embrace with a smile, careful not to touch any of the salve.

"Mmm, I've been waiting all day to do that." she murmurs.

Alice grins. "Glad to know the feeling's mutual."

Mirana giggles. "You know perfectly well the feeling is mutual."

Alice pulls back and pats the spot beside her for Mirana to sit. "So, what's happening now?"

Mirana stretches luxuriously. "James, Iracebeth, and Stayne have all been expelled. I think James might be getting arrested as well, since he… you know." She cracks her neck, relieving the tension there. "You've also got detention."

Alice gapes. "Me? What did I do?"

"According to school rules, you still chose to engage in violence rather than report it to a qualified adult. Here."

Mirana hands her a pink slip that reads:

DETENTION REPORT

DATE: 09/15

NAME OF STUDENT: Alice Kingsleigh

REASON FOR DETENTION: Engaging in violence with another student (James Martin).

DATE(S) OF DETENTION: Monday, 09/18 — Monday, 10/9

DELIVER TO: Professor Alden

TEACHER'S SIGNATURE: _Absolem Alden_

Alice groans. "Four weeks? That's practically a month!"

"They wanted to make it eight. I talked them down to four."

Alice sets the slip aside on her end table. "Well, never mind that. What does this mean for you?"

Mirana grins, biting her lip cheekily. "I got the scholarship." she says proudly. "And my parents are finally seeing reason. They're going to help us in our stand against Bumby. To put it in my father's words," she puts on an overly thick, masculine voice. "Better no grandchildren than psychotic grandchildren!"

Alice laughs. "That's wonderful!"

"Speaking of which," Mirana says. "I believe you still owe me that date."

Alice puts a hand over her heart, feigning hurt. "After all I've been through for you? I think _you_ owe _me_."

"That's a debt I certainly don't mind repaying." Mirana says, leaning in.

Their lips barely brush before the door opens.

"Bloody hell, at least put a sock on the door or something!" Tarrant yelps, throwing an arm over his eyes. "Or close the door all the way so it locks!"

Mirana colours and Alice groans. "It's not what it looks like, Tarrant. The salve is drying."

"Uh-huh, sure."

Tarrant makes no move to uncover his eyes, so Alice sighs and gets under the covers, pulling them up to cover from her chest down yet still being able to have her arms on top. "Alright, you can stop that now."

Tarrant peeks before dropping his arm. "Right, _anyway_ ," he says. "Mirana, your parents are here, and they want to talk to both of you."

Mirana sighs. "Alright. Tell them we'll be out in a moment."

Tarrant nods and leaves the room, closing the door tightly.

"Can we ever get some proper alone time?" Alice grumbles, dropping her blanket. The salve has dried enough, but this time she opts for a Van Halen baseball tee to cover up most of the damage.

"They probably just want to meet you." Mirana says, getting up from the bed.

Alice pulls the shirt over her head, shrugging it on. "What did you tell them about me, exactly?"

"Well, I know we're not exactly official or anything, but I thought it'd be easier for them to accept us, to accept me, if they believed that we were."

Alice lets Mirana straighten out her shirt while she steps into a pair of blue plaid slip-ons, her go-to hall shoes. "Do you want to be?"

"One step at a time, Alice. I've just accepted myself, and how I feel about you." She smiles. "We're doing this properly, remember?"

Alice smiles back. "Of course." She takes Mirana's hand in hers, interlacing their fingers together. "You know, I didn't expect to be doing this 'meeting the parents thing' this early on."

"Better make a good impression." Mirana says, giving her a quick peck.

Alice rolls her eyes. "I promise I won't bring up my prison record."

"Alice."

* * *

Genevieve and Ezra Underland await them at the end of the hall. Ezra is a man of average height, dark red hair streaked through with silver with a full beard and sideburns, a mischievous twinkle in his hazel eyes. He wears a gold tweed suit, and, ironically, a black tie patterned with white chess pieces. Genevieve is the same porcelain as her daughter, fairly thin and a bit on the shorter side, with long, cocoa brown hair and warm, dark brown eyes. She wears a rose coloured dress that flares at the bottom, and a pair of cream heels. Mirana looks more like her mother than her father, but that mischievous spark is unique only to father and daughter.

They regard Alice with analytical stares, and it takes all Alice's self-control not to squirm beneath their seemingly judgemental eyes. She suddenly wishes she'd chosen something that would make her look a little more presentable. Mirana makes her look quite literally like a peasant. Not exactly the best way to convince the Underlands that she is anywhere near worthy of their daughter.

Genevieve meets her daughter halfway, pulling her into a warm embrace. "Mirana, darling, I'm so sorry."

Mirana raises an eyebrow. "What ever for?"

"Oh, just everything. Being stuck in the past when we should be moving forward, more than anything. I never knew of that vile man's practices until now." Genevieve swallows hard. "I blame myself." she says, gripping Mirana a bit tighter. "My poor little girl."

Ezra lays a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Now, now, Gen, don't go blaming yourself. We didn't know." He turns to Mirana. "I'm very proud of you, my dear, for persevering through it all. You've been through so much."

Mirana smiles. "I didn't do it alone. Alice rescued me, remember?"

"Oh, yes!" Genevieve says, as if just remembering that Alice is still here. She embraces Alice equally tightly, and Alice controls the urge to wince as pressure is applied to her injuries. "Thank you, darling. You've done our Mira so much good."

"It wasn't any trouble." Alice says with what she hopes to be a winning smile.

"I'll be the first to say that we did resent you at first, since you were the reason why Mirana went through all of this." Ezra says. "However, seeing the changes in circumstance, we've decided to forgive you."

"Er, thanks?"

"I'm just glad that Mirana has finally found someone that makes her so happy." Genevieve says, smiling. "Granted, we thought it'd be in a man, but this is just as wonderful."

"Does she make you happy, Mira?" Ezra asks.

Mirana takes Alice's hand in her own, giving it a reassuring squeeze. She gazes at Alice with a smile that melts away any nerves bothering her in this moment, and Alice returns it, hoping that Mirana can hear what's unspoken.

"Yes, very much."

Alice's heart flutters at the statement, and even though those three little words aren't the ones she's still waiting to hear, they're enough to make her feel as if they're the only two people in the room.

Genevieve laughs. "I know that look." she says. "That's the same look you had when I said I'd marry you."

Ezra chuckles. "Indeed. Well, Alice, if you're willing, I —" Genevieve takes his arm. "We, would like to set aside some time to get to know you, perhaps over lunch."

"With all due respect sir," Alice says, choosing her words carefully. "I'd like to do that after we sort out our business with Bumby. This battle isn't over yet."

"Wise words. Good choice, Mira." Ezra says, looking to his daughter. "I'm glad she's smart." He turns back to Alice. "Of course we'll support you in any way we can. I don't know how informed you two are, but Bumby isn't happy about his missing patients. He wants to have a fully-fledged trial, and he will ruin you, if given the chance." He grows more serious. "Which is why we're going to be hiring the best lawyer this city has to offer. We won't let you lose, Alice, rest assured of that."

"A heavy conversation for a later time." Genevieve adds in. "We'll let you two rest." She begins to lead her husband away. "It was lovely meeting you, Alice!"

"And no funny business 'til you're married, you hear me?" Ezra calls over his shoulder.

"Father!"

Ezra chuckles, his laughter fading as he rounds the corner with his wife.

Alice's face suddenly feels very warm and is probably very red. She clears her throat. "Well, that was… something."

Mirana giggles as she and Alice walk back to their dorm. "You were fine." she says, unlocking their door and letting her in. "They're very grateful to you, as am I."

Alice flops onto her back, hitting her mattress with a dull _thud_. "Well, that's good."

Mirana takes a more graceful approach, sitting on the bed first before crawling up to lie beside Alice. "Were you nervous?"

Alice does her best to scoff. "What? Me? No!"

"Oh my gosh, you were."

"Shush."

Alice shifts so her arm is loosely draped around Mirana's shoulders, letting her snuggle into the crook of her neck. There's a brief bit of silence before Alice breaks it again.

"So… the trial."

"Do we have to talk about it now?"

"Won't we eventually?"

"Yes, but…" Mirana sighs. "Today was a lot. You have no idea how horrible it was for me, watching you fight James and being powerless to help. There were so many times when you could have died." She cups Alice's cheek, turning her head to face her. "Call me silly all you like, but right now, I just want to be with you. No complications, no trials, and certainly no Bumby. Not right now. I just want you."

Alice closes the distance between them, a soft, slow kiss, her free hand coming to wrap around Mirana's waist, pulling her closer to her. Bodies molded together, hearts beating as one. Even fully clothed, this is the most intimate they've ever been. As Alice caresses Mirana's lips with hers, she sends another silent message: _I'm here, I'm here, I'm here._ And this time, Mirana seems to respond: _Stay, stay, stay_.

When they do pull apart to breathe, foreheads pressed together, eyes shut, Alice murmurs gently into her ear:

"You have me."

* * *

Saturdays are supposed to be filled with absolutely no responsibilities and all fun. Usually Alice will sleep in until well past noon before doing anything at all.

Alice's phone, however, has a much different idea.

 _Bzzz. Bzzz. Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzz._

Alice groans and fumbles for her phone, blinking as she taps the screen. 9:04. Who the hell is bothering her this ear—

 _Tarrant: Professor Flora wants you and Mirana to meet her in her classroom. I'm already here, and so's Professor Alden and Mason. The lawyer's on the way over to help us prepare._

Ugh. Don't adults ever sleep? It's not like anyone is in immediate danger. As far as Alice knows, Bumby can't do anything right now. When is she ever going to get the chance to breathe?

Regardless, she needs to get dressed, especially if the lawyer's coming down. She glances down at Mirana, fast asleep for once rather than being up ridiculously early. She's also the reason for Alice's dead left arm, lying on top of it and rendering it practically immobile. Alice laughs to herself quietly and sets about trying to remove it from beneath Mirana's back without waking her. Despite how careful she's trying to be, Mirana grumbles in her sleep at the sudden movement and snuggles even deeper into Alice, pulling her even closer and even throwing a leg over her waist. Alice smirks. She wishes she had a camera, but now with both arms trapped underneath Mirana she can't even use her phone to capture the moment of her being an absolute cuddle-bug. Such impropriety!

She's going to have to wake Mirana up, because as much as lying in bed with her all day appeals to her, they both have an obligation to meet.

She wonders if they're far enough along in their relationship where it's okay to kiss her awake.

One way to find out.

Mirana responds to the contact at first, then giggles and shoves her off, sitting up.

Alice feigns hurt. "What was that for?"

Mirana swats Alice's arm. "Kissing me with morning breath. Go brush." She gets off the bed and goes to rummage through her closet.

Alice grins, shaking her head. "Oh, fine, that's fair." She sits up, inspecting her injuries. The burns have faded considerably, but not enough for her to forgo longsleeves. "We have to meet with Professor Flora. The lawyer's coming to help us present our case."

"Already?" Mirana pulls out a white blouse, white cable knit sweater, white skirt, and white flats. "That woman moves fast."

"Extremely." Alice throws a band shirt and a pair of jeans at random on her bed to change into. "Mason, Tarrant, and Professor Alden are already there." Alice pulls the shirt on after peeling the previous one off. She sees Mirana start to change out of the corner of her eye and quickly averts her gaze, moreso out of respect than anything else. A thought crosses her mind. "Do you think you'll ever break this whole 'white' thing?"

There's a pause.

"Why?"

Alice steps into her jeans. "Just curious. I just don't see how a person could wear one colour for their entire life."

"It's what sets me apart from my sister, Alice. It's very important to me."

Alice tries not to laugh, but a tiny chuckle escapes her. Is that what Mirana really thinks sets her apart?

Mirana pouts at her, now fully dressed. "You're laughing at me."

"No, no!" Mirana folds her arms. "Okay, yes." Alice sighs. "I mean, come on, Mirana. You can't really believe that the only thing separating you from your sister are your colours."

"It is!" Mirana insists, beginning to pace. "White signifies purity, red signifies blood. I can't break away from that; it's all I've known all my life. It's what everyone knows me to be. I can't change that. Without the white, what else is there —"

Alice has heard enough. She stops Mirana in her tracks, gripping her by her forearms and halting her pacing. "Stop." she says firmly. "Honestly, Mirana, can you really not see beyond something as simple as colours?" She takes a deep breath. "It's like a painting. Remember the tiger piece we did?" Mirana nods. "When we were creating it, we needed to do the background first. Loads of layers of different shades of blue and white. It wasn't just one colour." Mirana still doesn't appear to understand, so Alice tries again. "Look, all I'm saying is, you're not just one colour. There's a lot more to you than just white. You're sweet, and brilliant, and your art is getting better with every class." Mirana giggles at that. "I'm serious! And you're so selfless and you always try to do the right thing. No offense, but I can't really say the same for Iracebeth. So you shouldn't feel pressured to keep wearing the same thing all your life just because you're afraid of what someone else is going to say." Alice grins. "And if someone does say something, I'll knock them around a bit."

Mirana smiles, blushing a little. "Thank you." She bites her lip. "I don't own anything that isn't white, though."

Alice frowns. "Not even a set of gym clothes?"

Mirana gives her a playful shove. "I'm not walking around in _those_."

Alice goes to her dresser, pulling open the shirt drawer. "I think we're the same size." she says, going through her shirts to see which one might suit Mirana. Definitely no white, but absolutely nothing red. She sifts through her band shirts, knowing there's no way Mirana will want to wear any of those, and finds a forest green varsity shirt she hasn't worn in ages. She picks out her nicest pair of jeans to pair with the shirt and holds the outfit out to Mirana. "Try these."

Mirana wrinkles her nose. "Pants?"

"Sorry, I haven't got any skirts."

Mirana takes the clothes from her, looking them over. She goes over to her dresser and begins to change again. Alice averts her eyes once more, busying herself with making her bed. When she's through, Mirana is already fully dressed in her clothes.

She looks adorable.

Mirana gives an experimental twirl, examining herself. Alice surveys her approvingly. "What do you think?" she asks.

"I don't _hate_ it." Mirana says, pulling the shirt down a little more. "But I'm definitely going shopping later."

"I like green on you." And Alice does, truly. Like fresh snow fallen on a fir tree. "It suits you."

"Really?"

"Really. But don't go wearing nothing but green either. That's not the point."

"What would you do if I dyed my hair green?"

"Make you wear a wig." Mirana smacks her arm. "Ow! Mirana!"

Mirana rolls her eyes. "That didn't really hurt."

"Oh, but it did." Alice insists. "I think it's bruising."

"Drama queen."

"You should kiss it better. The pain's spreading to my mouth."

"Go brush." Mirana says, chuckling.

"Okay, okay." Alice says, grinning cheekily. She goes to the bathroom to brush her teeth, if only for the promise of a kiss later.

 _Bzzz. Bzzz._

 _Tarrant: The lawyer's here. Are you nearly here yet?_

 _Alice: Almost. Brushing teeth._

 _Mirana's wearing colour. Don't make a big deal about it when get there._

 _Tarrant: Hurry._

 _Colour? How'd you manage that?_

 _Alice: Let's just say I'm very persuasive. ;)_

 _Tarrant: TMI, Alice!_

Alice smirks, spitting out the last bit of mouthwash. Let Tarrant think whatever he likes; she's not about to correct him.


	19. Something Sweeter

**19**

The meeting with the lawyer had seemed to last an eternity. A short, stout man in a finely tailored brass coloured suit called Wilkins had gone over the details of their case down to the precise minute. It had taken all of Alice's self-control not to fall asleep. Leaving the meeting, which concluded two hours later, had been an absolute relief. Looking around as she and Mirana walk side by side through the winding paths, seeing everyone getting along, she decides to take advantage of this moment of peace before any further preparations for the trial.

"Mirana?"

"Hmmm?"

"What do you like to do for fun?"

Mirana hums a little to herself. "I suppose I like to dance at socials."

Blergh, definitely not. Alice cannot dance to save her life. When she was supposed to be learning ballroom dancing, she'd been learning how to fence and tie knots. "Anything else?" she asks hopefully.

She thinks for a moment. "Well, I haven't had the chance for a while, but I do enjoy baking."

Baking? Alice supposes she can manage that. She hadn't planned on coming home this early, but she doesn't know of any other place with an oven. She's sure her mother won't mind. "Do you want to bake today?"

Mirana starts. "Today? Alice, we have so much to prepare for the trial —"

"You said yourself that you'd rather not think about that. Our next meeting with Wilkins isn't until Wednesday anyway." Alice takes her hand. "Consider it our first date."

Mirana smiles at that. "Well, when you put it that way, I suppose it's alright."

"Great! We'll have to pack for the weekend, of course —"

"Pack?"

Alice laughs. "We don't exactly have an oven here, so I was thinking we'd go back to mine." She grins cheekily. "It'll also be payback for me meeting your parents. You'll get to meet my mum."

If Mirana could get any paler, she would. Alice laughs harder at her expression as they walk back to her dorm to pack for the weekend.

* * *

Two hours later Alice and Mirana pull up to the Kingsleigh manor. Alice parks the rental car in the street, helping Mirana out of the passenger side. She opens the trunk and lifts out Mirana's white rolling suitcase, then her much lighter black duffel bag. When she'd asked Mirana what she'd packed that warranted the suitcase, Mirana had simply said her whitening kit, which Alice had taken to mean hair dye and an excessive amount of makeup. She can't help but wonder if Mirana will ever let her hair go back to her natural brown. All those chemicals can't be great for her hair, but then again, who is she to judge? Before they'd left, they'd stopped off at the mall to put some colour into her wardrobe, so at least they're still taking baby steps. Lots of pinks and greens and yellows, with a little bit of blue. She still keeps the white clothing, but they act more as accent pieces than centerpieces now. Mirana had changed into a black skirt before they'd left, relieved to be out of those "confining leg traps" as she'd put it.

She pulls the key out from her pocket, wishing that her mother would just upgrade to an electronic gate already, and unlocks it. They go up to the manor, which hasn't changed much since the last time she'd been here about a month ago. It's a massive Victorian style place with pine green walls and white trim, elegant arched windows and stone pillar accents. The foxgloves and lilies still surround it, but now there's some buttercups added in, popping up in between. She walks up the little stairway leading up to the porch, getting a little more nervous with each step. She'd called her mother as they were packing back in the dorm, so she knows that Alice is coming with Mirana to bake, and she knows that Mirana is her soon-to-be-girlfriend, but she has no idea how she's going to receive Mirana herself, and what she'd put herself through on her account. Technically speaking, she is an alleged kidnapper now. She'll just have to explain that the whole thing was her fault in the first place.

She tries to conceal her nervousness though, for Mirana's sake. However worried she's feeling, she's certain Mirana's worse off, having never met her mother before.

She holds her breath and knocks.

Helen Kingsleigh comes to the door, hair thrown up into a messy bun and an apron around her waist, covering the skirt of her dress. She beams at the sight of them both and pulls Alice into her arms, embracing her youngest daughter tightly. "Oh, Alice, so good of you to come! And Mirana too!" She releases Alice and gives Mirana an equally tight hug. "Hmmm." She looks Mirana up and down. "I don't see what you mean by 'powdered donut', Alice."

Mirana raises an eyebrow at Alice. "Powdered donut?"

"Erm, yeah, about that." Alice says sheepishly, running a hand through her hair. "When Mum asked what my roommate was like a while ago, I said you kind of looked like a powdered donut, with all that white."

Mirana snorts and swats Alice's arm, tension dissolved. "Shame on you."

Helen laughs. "Oh, you're a delight! I'm sure we'll get on splendidly." Her eyes come to rest on Alice, and they widen as if seeing her for the first time. "Oh my goodness, your hair!" She reaches up, patting at her head as if to try and coax it out to its usual length. "What happened to it?"

"It's a very long story." Alice admits.

"Well, come on in and tell me all about it!" she says. "You can tell me over lunch, because you are most certainly not going to fill up on cookie dough before you've had a proper meal." She pushes the both of them through the doorway. "Come on, then. You'll have to be careful of this one," she says to Mirana with a grin. "She'll eat it all before it's baked if you don't watch her."

Alice groans. "Muuuuum."

Mirana giggles. "I'll make sure she doesn't have too much."

They go inside and seat themselves at the table, which has already been set. There are three plates with prawn and mayonnaise sandwiches cut in half, the way Alice used to have everyday before she'd started going to boarding schools. The food at Underland Academy isn't half bad, but it pales in comparison to the simple things her mother makes. Alice seats herself and is about to start eating when her mother holds her hands out for them to take. She suppresses her groan and takes one. True, her relationship with God isn't as ruined as it was before, but that doesn't mean she's ready to get back into this bit quite yet.

"Bless us our Lord and these thy gifts, for which we are about to receive," her mother says, eyes closed and head bowed. "From thy bounty through Christ, Our Lord, amen."

"Amen." Alice responds with Mirana. As soon as her hand is released, she digs in. Mmmm. Just as delicious as she remembers, the creamy mayonnaise complementing the prawns perfectly.

"So, Alice, what happened to your hair?" her mother asks again. "You've never had it that short before."

Alice nearly chokes on her sandwich. She'd hoped to finish at least half of her sandwich before getting into that. She forces herself to swallow the rest before turning to Mirana. "From the beginning?"

Mirana nods. "You'd better, or it won't make any sense."

And so Alice recounts, from the beginning, everything they've been through, from her confession to breaking Mirana out of the asylum all the way up to her fight with James Martin. Her mother listens quietly, nodding along and even gasping at some parts. Mirana fills in bits she misses, like her time in her asylum. When they finish, Helen simply purses her lips, thinking. Alice holds her breath, ready to jump to Mirana's defense if need be.

"Well," her mother finally says. "While I don't approve of the means you went about doing these things, I must say that I am very proud of you Alice. I know going back to Rutledge must not have been easy for you. You've been very brave. Mirana must be very important to you for you to go so far for her."

Alice nods, relieved that her mother doesn't seem to resent Mirana for anything. "She is." She locks eyes with Mirana across the table and smiles. "She's everything to me."

"I'm glad. Now, about Bumby," Helen's wrinkled hands clench into fists. "You let me know what I can do to help with your case. That man doesn't deserve to get away with anything he's done. He should be rotting in prison."

"With all due respect, Mrs. Kingsleigh," Mirana says. "Let's not talk of that now."

"Oh, please dear, call me Mum." Helen says, clasping Mirana's hand in hers warmly. "And you're right. The last thing you two must want is to think of something so awful. Why don't you tell me about yourself, Mirana, since Alice hasn't said much since her first day?"

Alice ignores the blatant dig at her lack of details and opts to finish her sandwich. This is going remarkably well. She was worried for nothing.

"Hmmm." Mirana hums to herself. "Well, my parents are the founders of the Academy, so I've always had the best education. I enjoy learning, but beyond that I like to dance. Alice has gotten me into painting a bit as well." she says, smiling at Alice fondly.

"Can you teach her how to dance, then?" Helen asks, cutting her sandwich into smaller sections still. "I've been trying for years, but she refuses every time."

"And I'll still refuse." Alice says pointedly, wiping her face with her arm. "I can't dance, Mum. I'm a lost cause."

"That sounds like a challenge." Mirana says with a grin.

Alice groans. "Now you've gone and given her ideas."

"You must learn the foxtrot." Mirana continues. "It's my favourite."

Helen perks up at this. "Mine too!"

Alice grabs her plate and takes it to the sink to wash. "Now you've done it. I thought we were baking today, not forcing me to become coordinated."

"Oh, yes, of course." Helen says, but she's still beaming at Mirana. "Another time then. You'll have to bring her to our Christmas ball, Alice."

"Mmhmm." Alice rinses off her plate and sets it in the empty dish rack to dry. Hopefully by then they'll both have forgotten about it. It's bad enough that she has to dance with the men visiting. The last thing she wants is to spend the evening stepping on Mirana's toes.

"I'll leave you to it, then." Helen rises, taking her plate with her. "All the baking things are still in the same spot, center cupboard above the stove as well as the cabinets directly below. Do try not to make too much of a mess." She looks fondly at Mirana. "Lovely to meet you, dear. I hope to be seeing more of you in the future."

"Of course."

With that, Helen leaves with plate in hand, probably going to finish her meal in the study.

Alice goes to the cupboard and starts taking down ingredients. Among them is a neatly written out recipe for chocolate chip cookies. Alice sends a silent thank you to her mother for coming to her rescue on that front, because honestly this whole thing was done on impulse and she hadn't really planned far ahead. Mirana goes into the cabinets after glancing at the recipe and takes out two bowls and a thick wooden spoon. They settle into a sort of comfortable silence, measuring things out and setting them aside, communicating with simple looks, wordlessly, cleaning as they go. After the events of the past few months, quiet is exactly what they need right now.

The dough is soon ready, thick and pleasantly aromatic. As expected, Alice swipes a few bites before Mirana swiftly swipes the bowl from her, rolls it all into balls faster than anyone Alice had ever seen before, and sticks the tray into the oven. She giggles at Alice's pout.

"You'll have them when they're done." she says.

"But they're better raw." Alice whines.

"Your stomach will thank me later." Mirana pokes her belly playfully. "You should show me your room."

Alice grins. "Well, Miss Underland, that's a little forward of you, don't you think?"

"Do you ever stop?"

"Never."

Mirana fixes her with a look, which only makes Alice laugh. "Alright, since you want to see it so bad, we'll go to my room."

"Thank you."

Alice takes Mirana's hand in hers and leads her upstairs. Her bedroom is the second to last one down the hall, and also happens to be the smallest bedroom in the entire house. Her sister Margaret had insisted on having the larger room since she had more things, but since she's moved out with Lowell that room is noticeably bare. Alice sometimes wonders how she'd managed to fit everything into that little studio space they share, though visiting them has never been on her top list of priorities. She pulls open the door to her room and lets Mirana enter first.

Her room is exactly the same as she'd left it when she'd last been here. One set of walls is painted navy blue striped through with light wooden boards while the other set acts as accent walls painted bright orange. There's an orange K hanging above her desk, which is covered in sketches and random pens and pencils with the occasional marker in the mix. All her painting supplies sit underneath her wall shelves, her paint-splattered easel folded up and bearing most of the weight of canvases and jars of paint. The brushes sit in a cup by themselves, mostly clean. The accent walls house most of her paintings and drawings, one wall hollowed out to act as her bed space. Her bed is a simple mattress wrapped in blue plaid sheets and topped off with two navy pillows. The recessed part of the wall is essentially a mural full of wildly whimsical patterns and a rainbow of abstract animals. Alice has been working on that mural for three years, and she still doesn't consider it done.

Alice makes something of an effort to make her room look a little more presentable, though. She starts clearing off her desk, sorting aimlessly. "I'm not sure what you were expecting, but it's pretty simple. Nothing fantastic."

Mirana walks around her room, eyes sweeping the space. "No, it's anything but. It's complicated, but beautiful." She smiles at Alice. "Like you."

Alice flushes and busies herself even more with her sketches. "You are free to believe what you'd like."

She feels Mirana's arms wrap around her from behind, her cheek pressing against hers. "You know, as cocky as you are, you are terribly insecure."

"Mmmph." Alice huffs.

"You know, one day I'm going to get you to see yourself the way I see you."

Alice puts her pile aside, turning in her arms. "Now you're starting to sound like me."

Mirana giggles. "Good." She lets go of Alice and does a little twirl, sitting herself on Alice's bed. "Come over here."

Alice raises an eyebrow but does as she asks, standing in front of Mirana.

Mirana smirks. "Not there." She pats her lap. "Here."

Alice frowns. This is very unlike Mirana. "What are you playing at?" she asks.

"Humour me."

"Alright."

Alice sits on Mirana's lap, albeit hesitantly. She may act taller, but Mirana has a good few inches on her, and this only reminds her of that fact. Mirana shifts her so Alice is facing her now, pinning Mirana's legs between her thighs. She fingers Alice's shirt, seeming to be considering what to do with it. Alice swallows hard. She may be on top, but it's clear who's in charge right now.

"Er, Mirana, what are you doing?" Alice asks nervously. What has gotten into her?

Mirana's eyes are much darker than usual as she reaches up to pull Alice's face down closer. "I think I'm ready to go a bit further than we have been." she says. "I don't want Bumby's touch to be the last." She kisses Alice hard, nipping her lower lip before pulling away. "Make me forget him." she whispers against her lips.

It is suddenly far too hot in this room. Alice isn't sure how she's still breathing at this point. "Are you sure?" she asks.

Mirana leans back, lying down fully now, and pulling Alice down with her. "Don't make me ask again." she breathes.

That's all Alice needs to hear.


	20. Productivity

**20**

Unfortunately, time does pass outside the bedroom, and soon Alice and Mirana have to leave to take out the cookies before they burn. After scrambling to get their clothes back on they race downstairs to clear the oven. Mirana quickly sets the tray on the stove to cool while Alice grabs a plate and a spatula to pile them on. She keeps glancing at Mirana over her shoulder, but as soon as their eyes nearly meet she looks away again. She doesn't know how to ask this question, but it's bothering her keeping it inside. She just doesn't know how to say it without embarrassing herself.

"Alright, Alice, what is it?" Mirana asks.

Alice eases the spatula underneath a few cookies. "What?" She transfers them to the plate and works on another set.

"You haven't said anything since we… you know. And you keep looking at me."

Alice pushes a little too hard with the spatula and nearly knocks the current row of cookies onto the counter. "I — I, um." She clears her throat, hoping that'll help a little, but it doesn't. Not really. "I — er." She takes a deep breath. She's got to spit this out. "I was just wondering how it was. For you."

There's silence for a moment. Then, Mirana starts laughing. "Oh, is that all?"

"Don't say it like it's not a big deal!" Alice protests. "I really want to know!"

"You're so red right now!"

"Well, I've never really — you're my first." Alice mumbles.

"Oh, darling." Mirana's calmed down considerably, but there's still a smile in her eyes. She leans back against the counter. "You were wonderful."

"Really?"

"Really."

Alice finishes piling the cookies onto the plate. "Well. That's good."

Mirana slips on some mitts and takes the tray to the sink. "You're adorable, you know that?" Alice turns a darker shade of red but says nothing. "Did you have anything else planned for today?"

"Well, this was a bit spur of the moment, as it seems everything else has been since we got here, so no, not really."

"Are you complaining?"

Alice pulls the tea box down from the cupboard above the stove, smiling despite herself. "Not really." she says truthfully, setting the box on the table. "What kind of tea do you like?"

"What do you have?"

Alice thumbs through the packets. "Earl grey, chamomile, peppermint, chai, green."

"Chamomile sounds lovely."

Alice removes a packet of chamomile, then a packet of green for herself. "Honey?"

Mirana turns. "Yes?"

"What — oh." Alice closes the cupboard, pot of honey in hand. She holds it up for Mirana to see. "I meant actual honey."

Mirana laughs, returning to washing the tray off. Steam rises from the still hot sheet as water hits it, a quiet sizzling sound. "Oh! Yes, please. Just a little."

Alice pulls down her favourite pale blue mug as well as a clear ceramic for Mirana and sets them with the tea things. She also grabs the glass pitcher, because God knows that she hasn't the patience for a stupid kettle, fills it with water, then closes it inside the microwave to warm up, punching it in for three minutes. This is nice, and normal. She's long stopped worrying about all hell breaking loose in a matter of minutes. For now, she can enjoy this little oasis with Mirana. She tears open each tea packet and places the bags in their respective cups, then returns the tea box to its place. The empty packets go into the rubbish, and a spoon beside Mirana's cup. Alice personally takes her tea plain, not really seeing the point in honey or lemon unless you're ill.

As the water warms up, Alice starts to try and come up with other things that they could do. She hadn't planned much further than baking, and she certainly hadn't planned for certain… other events, though continuing with _that_ , while thoroughly pleasurable, is risky while her mother remains home. She'd had enough difficulty as it was keeping quiet the first time, but now that Mirana is quite familiar with every inch of her —

Yes, continuing with that would not be the best idea.

What do couples even do? Alice is very out of her element, the closest thing to a relationship before this she's had being with Hamish. However, Alice doesn't really count it, seeing as one, their parents had set them up, and two, he'd tried proposing to her after "dating" for only two weeks. Two weeks of awkwardly holding hands and making up excuses not to kiss him all in the name of trying to please her mother. That ridiculous ring was what gave Alice the push she needed to finally end things with him, which of course resulted in Hamish starting a smear campaign against the Kingsleigh name.

No, she'd certainly hadn't felt bad about being expelled from _that_ school in particular after her revenge scheme went perfectly. Alice smirks to herself. Junior year, a flagpole, too much duct tape, and the perfect amount of sleeping pills. Though she'd promised her mother she'd never do something of the sort again, she doesn't regret that one bit.

The microwave goes off and Alice hurries to get the water out. _Focus, Kingsleigh!_ What do couples do? She racks her brain for ideas as she pours the hot water directly onto the tea bags for faster steeping. She swirls the chamomile around a bit to speed that up, then dips the spoon into the honey. The golden syrup spills slowly into the cup, marbling the top as Alice's wandering eyes land on the telly. A movie, perhaps? But what kind? She replaces the jar and leaves the spoon sitting through the handle of the mug in case Mirana wants to stir that a bit more. These little things, like a favourite movie, or a song, or even a favourite colour — well, that one is fairly obvious — these are things she should know by now! She's fairly certain she doesn't even know when Mirana's birthday is. She tries to remember if Mirana's ever told her, but nothing comes up. God! She doesn't even know her birthday! What if it's already passed like hers?

Well, one thing at a time.

"Mirana, would you want to watch a movie?" she asks, handing Mirana her mug carefully.

"I wouldn't be opposed." she says with a smile, following Alice to the shelf housing their film collection.

"I'll go get a blanket." Alice says. "You can set the player up."

As Alice goes upstairs to go retrieve a blanket from the cabinet upstairs, she lets herself breathe a sigh of relief. So far, so good. This is why she should plan ahead more, but honestly the whole idea of planning sounds tiresome. She groans. She'll leave planning to Mirana next time. Why is she so awful at this?

When she returns downstairs, fluffy grey blanket under her arm, she finds Mirana already curled up on the sofa with her tea, sitting in front of the title screen.

The title screen of the film that had terrified her in her primary school days and hadn't watched since.

 _Misery_.

Alice forces herself to put on a brave face. That was years ago. It can't be that scary now. If this is what Mirana wants to watch, then that's what they'll watch.

She settles in beside Mirana, draping the blanket over their legs and sitting her mug on her lap. She clicks "play", bracing herself mentally.

The movie is just as terrifying as she remembers, and then some, especially now that she's old enough to notice other subtleties throughout. As she watches Paul try over and over again to escape Annie, chills creep up her spine, especially as Annie grows more and more unhinged. Alice locks her jaw, trying to keep a composed expression and hide how she's gradually becoming more terrified by the second.

They finally reach the line that chills her blood every time.

"Paul, my ceramic penguin in the study always faces due south."

She hears Mirana laugh. How can she be laughing right now? Paul is as good as dead now!

"Alice."

Alice keeps her eyes trained on the screen. _I'm not scared, you're scared, I'm super tough!_ she makes herself think. "Yeah?"

"You're terrified right now, aren't you?"

"No!"

Annie raises the hammer.

Nope, nope, nope! Alice buries her face in Mirana's shoulder. She can't, she can't do it! She cringes as she hears the bones snapping, breaking. Even being unable to see her stomach still churns, knowing exactly what Annie is doing to Paul. Ughhhhhh!

Mirana laughs harder. "Alice!" Alice can feel Mirana's body shaking, but she doesn't move from her spot. She doesn't care anymore. She feels Mirana's arm drape around her. "Okay, it's over, you can look."

Alice sits up, relieved to find that the scene is, in fact, over. She busies herself with her tea, it being warm enough for her to drink more of it. "I don't know what you're talking about." she mumbles into her cup.

Mirana turns her head and presses a kiss to Alice's forehead. "You should have told me." she says. "We don't have to finish it."

"No, I'll be fine. I don't think it gets any worse until towards the end." Alice says. "I'm not a child anymore."

"It's okay to be scared of things."

"Mmmph." Alice continues drinking her tea, letting the warm, earthy flavour distract her for a minute. It's been a while since she's had the time for a decent cup of green tea. "I didn't peg you for the psych thriller type."

Mirana threads their fingers together absentmindedly, taking a sip of her own tea. "What _did_ you peg me for?"

"Film or neo noirs."

"I've heard of film noir, but what are neo noirs?"

"Modernized film noirs."

"I haven't seen either, actually. Do you have any?"

"No. Besides, we're already watching this."

"True, but we don't have to if it makes you uncomfortable."

Alice rolls her eyes. "I'll be fine, really."

"Whatever you say."

"Next you're going to tell me this is your favourite film."

Mirana grins. "It is."

"Why?"

"It fascinates me. The degradation of Annie's mind, the near impossibility of Paul's escape. That, and death in itself intrigues me. Death of the body, death of the mind." Mirana squeezes her hand, eyes glimmering with excitement. "It's thrilling."

It makes absolutely no sense, given everything they've both gone through, but Alice doesn't question it. Mirana is full of surprises, and it only makes Alice more curious about her and endears her to her even more.

It doesn't stop her from burying her face back into Mirana's shoulder during the final fight scene though.

* * *

The weekend ends far too soon, with Alice's mother asking them to come again any time they'd like. It's unlikely they'll be back until Thanksgiving break, what with the preparations they'll have to make for the trial and Alice serving detention.

Speaking of which, that's exactly what's waiting for Alice after she finishes her last class. She glances down at the pink slip and sighs. She really isn't looking forward to this. If her last three schools have taught her anything, it's that detention is the same everywhere — staring at a wall, nothing to do, not even sleep, and sitting still for at least thirty minutes and at most a whole hour. She's meant to deal with four weeks of this!

Mirana walks her to Professor Alden's classroom, hand in hand. Well, if one good thing has come from this, it's that Mirana's willing to be more open about their relationship at school. It had taken some coaxing, but when some random guy at the petrol station on the way back had started hitting on Alice, that had done the trick. Alice almost wishes that had happened sooner. Maybe she could've paid Bayard or Tarrant to try that. She nearly laughs out loud at the thought.

They arrive at the classroom far too soon. Alice groans.

Mirana presses a kiss to her cheek. "It won't be forever."

"But it'll feel like it." Alice grumbles.

Mirana smirks. "If you behave, I'll have something for you when you come back."

"Like what?"

Mirana grips the front of her shirt, pulling Alice up to her and kissing her hard. Before Alice can tangle her fingers in her hair and reciprocate properly, Mirana pulls back.

Alice pouts. "Tease."

"Yes, yes I am. I'll see you at home."

She turns to leave, then turns back and rubs something off Alice's lip. Lipstick. Alice smirks and nips her finger before she can pull it back. Mirana gasps, mock-surprised, before sashaying away. Alice swears she's doing it on purpose.

It takes all Alice's self-control to walk through that door and not chase after Mirana. She turns the knob and enters the Astrology classroom.

Professor Alden sits at his desk, looking perfectly pressed and proper as usual, not a hair out of place. He writes hurriedly with the ink spilling rapidly from his fountain pen. He doesn't even glance up when Alice walks in. He flicks his index finger towards a front row stool with such force and fluidity that Alice is surprised the stool doesn't rush to meet him.

"Sit." he orders.

Alice obeys, dropping her bag beside it and mentally preparing herself for a hour of boredom.

Professor Alden finishes whatever he's writing before marching over to Alice's desk. He snatches up the detention slip, looks at it, and tears it in half.

"The slip may say 'detention', Miss Kingsleigh, but that is not how we'll be spending our time over the course of these four weeks." Professor Alden says. "We'll be preparing you for your case."

Alice frowns. "I thought that was the lawyer's job."

Professor Alden gives a derisive snort. "The lawyer will be of more use to Mirana than to you. The less time he has to waste working on you, the more he can spend presenting Mirana's case. While your allegations against Dr. Bumby will serve as further ammunition, the focus will primarily be on the most recent event, as well as Mason's parentage, which he will no doubt use as leverage to gain sympathy from the jury and deny the claims. Unfortunately, given Bumby's position and his years of collecting accolades, the Underland family and he hold the exact same weight, equals in the courtroom. You are but one piece in this very elaborate, complex puzzle: Underland v. Bumby. Now," Professor Alden goes to his desk and lifts a well worn Bible from one of the drawers. "Of course, we're going to do this properly and swear you in. Raise your right hand, left on the Bible." Alice does so. "Do you solemnly swear that the testimony you are about to give at this hearing shall be the truth, and nothing but the truth, under penalty of perjury, so help you God?"

"I do."

Professor Alden scoffs. "What is this, your wedding day? Repeat after me. I swear by the Almighty God."

"I swear by the Almighty God."

"That the evidence I give."

"That the evidence I give."

"Shall be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth."

"Shall be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth."

"Now the whole thing."

"I swear by God —"

"The _Almighty_ God."

"It's one word!" Alice says indignantly.

"One word that could ruin you." Professor Alden snarls. "We're going to go over this until you get it right, so I suggest you cooperate completely."

Alice grits her teeth.

This is going to be a long four weeks.


	21. Time for Tea

**21**

One session down, nineteen to go. It had been the longest hour of her life, having Professor Alden drilling every single word precisely into her head. Despite what he'd revealed about their connected pasts long before, he still remains firm with her. She knows why he does it, but it doesn't annoy her any less.

She busies herself with work to try and distract herself from what she'll eventually have to face. Mirana isn't home yet, much to her disappointment. She'd left Alice a note on her desk explaining that she had duties to attend to, which basically means that she's out there, fulfilling her duties as a school leader. Technically speaking, she should be with her, as Mirana's sort of "second in command", but she's grateful she doesn't have to be. After that session with Professor Alden, any additional social interaction would have probably put her in a foul mood.

She writes another meaningless sentence for her Religious Studies essay, the prompt this time being, "Why is Pleasure Faith a stain on the church as a whole?" Alice has long stopped caring about the moral qualms of these papers, noticing that the professor doesn't even read them. She's actually just copying a passage from her textbook, changing a word or two here and there to keep the task from becoming more monotonous than it already is. Since the papers are all handwritten, there's no software that's going to detect plagiarism, so she's not too fussed about it.

Her phone buzzes. Alice seriously considers ignoring it, but it might be someone important.

 _Unknown Number: I'd like to meet with you._

Alice frowns.

 _Alice: Who's this?_

 _Unknown: Nivens._

Nivens?

 _Alice: How did you get my number?_

 _Nivens: Mirana. Are you busy right now?_

Alice glances at her textbook, then at the half page of essay she's written.

 _Alice: Not really. Where do you want to meet?_

 _Nivens: There's a tea house I found while I was ill. It's called Ipalm._

What a curious name. Alice puts it into her phone's GPS and groans. It's an hour walk.

 _Alice: It might take me a bit. I'll be walking._

 _Nivens: I can pick you up._

 _It's quite prestigious, so dress nice._

 _A tie or a dress, whichever is more comfortable for you._

 _Alice: Alright, then._

 _Nivens: I'll be by in about ten minutes._

Alice shuts her textbook, paper inside, after marking the passage with pencil to finish copying later. Yes, this discussion is long overdue. She'd seen Nivens come undone, and then suddenly reappear, stronger than ever. The need to be heard, to be understood, is something Alice knows all too well, and she's going to give Nivens that.

Even if it means dressing up for some ridiculously fancy tearoom.

She roots around in her drawers for something to wear. She owns exactly one dress, but she'd rather not put that on. She doesn't have a tie, though. She peels through a pile of shirts and chooses a grey button down she hasn't worn in a while and pairs it with a pair of black dress pants. This'll have to do. She slips on her signature jean jacket and calls it done.

* * *

Nivens shows up behind the dorm building in a black Rolls-Royce. If that doesn't scream pretentious arsehole, nothing does, but Alice knows better. It's all to protect himself, but she can't help but wonder how he can afford that. He wears a lavender vest, matching bowtie, and a black dress shirt underneath. His pocket watch pokes out from the vest pocket, as usual. Alice climbs into the passenger seat, and they're off.

The drive over is silent, but Alice knows that they'll have plenty of time to talk once they've arrived. Nivens has certainly changed. The dark circles and the redness at his waterline have faded considerably, and as he drives he sits up much straighter than before, eyes firmly trained on the road.

Ipalm is a quaint little shop on a street corner looking slightly out of place with its boxy shape. Inside, it is completely wooden, with large arched windows to let in as much natural light as possible. The furniture is simply elegant — round little tables surrounded by high-backed brown leather chairs trimmed with eggshell white material, the seating arrangements ranging from two chairs to a table to five at most. Soft, classical piano plays on speakers mounted in the ceiling corners while lavender incense burns, a calming aroma that permeates the entire room. Everyone is dressed in business casual attire, though Alice remains the only woman in a dress shirt. The owner recognizes Nivens right away and seats them immediately at what is apparently Nivens's reserved table, right in front of the largest window peering out into the street. He asks Nivens if he'll have his usual, then asks Alice what she'll have. She asks for a green tea, no additives, and he goes to put in their order. A second server comes out with a plate of shortbread fingers and another plate bearing chocolate, strawberry, and vanilla macarons. After asking Alice if there's anything she'd like and her politely declining, the second server flits over to the next table to check on those patrons. Alice isn't quite sure what to say, neither having directly spoken a word to the other.

"You must come here often." she tries, hoping that will trigger the rest of this conversation.

"At least once a week." Nivens says. "My therapist approves." He lifts a strawberry macaron off the top of the little tower, taking a bite. He smiles happily, and the tension diffuses a bit. He gestures at the plate. "Try one, they're lovely."

Alice picks out a chocolate one from the bottom tier and takes a careful bite. Light, airy, with just the perfect amount of crunch and a pleasant cocoa sweetness. They're divine. The cream is heaven on her tongue, perfectly cool and smooth. She swallows. "Thank you." she says.

"You're most welcome."

The owner comes out with their teas, two white teacups slightly larger than the ordinary. He sets Niven's Earl Grey flavoured with a bit of milk and honey in front of him, then Alice's plain green. He smiles and gives Nivens a gentle pat on the shoulder before attending to the other tables.

As soon as the owner is out of earshot, Nivens leans forward. "How much do you know?" he asks.

Alice frowns, not understanding. "About?"

"Me. What have they told you?"

"Who?"

"Anyone."

Alice takes a sip of her tea and nearly burns her tongue on it. She carefully replaces the cup back onto its saucer. "Nothing much, really. I know what you have, but that's all."

"I want you to know that history will not repeat itself." Nivens says. "I have learned that becoming unstable solves nothing, helps no one. That giving up is not the answer. I know that there is still a conflict to be resolved, and should you ever need my assistance, in any way, I will gladly give it."

"We'll get to that in a minute." Alice says. "Not that I don't appreciate it, I do." she says quickly. "But how did you recover? It's like you're a completely different person."

"I realized I couldn't live my life cowering in fear, hiding behind my position in the school. Positions mean nothing when there's someone out there much stronger than you, someone who can overpower you. So as soon as I was stabilized again, I asked my father to hire a speech therapist in addition to my mental health therapist. It was a massive step for me. I wasn't used to the idea that it's okay to ask for help. I spent hours with the speech therapist, and even when he was gone I'd practice on my own, reciting classical texts before dinner for my family every night, until one day I made it through an entire soliloquy without a single mistake or faltering once. That alone gave me hope that I could change who I was, that I didn't have to let these handicaps define me as a person." Nivens dips a shortbread finger into his tea, then bites the end of it off with a soft _crunch_. "I have done my suffering, and now I am stronger for it. I see my mental health therapist every Wednesday, and I come here every Monday, unless something comes up. This is where I go to calm down, to recenter myself. I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone else about this place. I like it the way it is, an oddity, unknown to most."

While Alice would have liked to share this place with Mirana, she understands where Nivens is coming from. "I promise I won't mention it to anyone."

"Thank you, Alice. Now, there's something else I need to tell you, but I'd rather you not need to use it unless it's absolutely necessary."

Alice takes an experimental sip of her tea. It's cooled enough for her to drink it. "Alright." This must be what he's really here to talk to her about.

He lowers his voice to almost a whisper, though there's enough idle chatter that it's almost unnecessary. "I have incriminating evidence against Bumby, data that could get him locked away for the rest of his life."

"What?" Alice yelps.

"Shhhh!" Nivens hurriedly hushes her, pinching her lips together. He glances around, but no one seems to have noticed Alice's outburst. He releases them. "Not so loud." he hisses.

"Sorry." Alice whispers. "Why didn't you mention this before?"

"I wanted to make sure I could trust you." Nivens explains. "The thing is, this has to be an absolute last resort."

"Why?"

"Because if you mention it to the court, it could ruin my entire family."

Alice folds her arms, unsure of how to feel about Nivens concealing this very crucial information. "How so?"

"My father worked with Angus for a year before he met my mother, ages before Angus received his doctorate. He was his partner, working on their dissertations together. They were both willing to do anything to receive that honour, including experiments that would be considered unethical." Nivens draws out a thin black pen drive with a single red stripe of electrical tape wrapped around the middle. "My father created this two years after the experiments, unable to bear having physical copies any longer. This contains all the research, every bit of data collected during that time before the experiments were shut down and Bumby wiped any trace of it outside of this. My father was keeping it for blackmail in case Bumby ever tried to threaten him for deserting him, but he says that you'll need it much more, if it ever comes to that. If you want to read the files, you must never let them leave this drive. The second they do, they will be open to Bumby and he'll infiltrate your system and destroy them. As far as he knows, he has obliterated all traces of his experiments from existence. We need to keep it that way." He holds it out to Alice, but before she can take it from him, he pulls his hand back. "I need you to swear to me, Alice, that you won't use this unless it's absolutely necessary."

Alice nods. "I swear."

As soon as the words leave her lips, Nivens presses the pen drive into Alice's hand. Alice in turn carefully tucks it into her jeans pocket, as if it's an explosive device that may go off if handled too roughly. Their own secret weapon.

"Thanks, Nivens."

"And one more thing." Nivens says. "Don't tell Mirana, either. Not a soul, not even her."

Of course. "I promise."

"Very good. It's nothing personal, Alice, it's just I'd like as few people to know about this as possible. My family history is not a suitable dinner table topic, if you catch my drift." Alice nods, drinking more of her tea. "But enough of that. This outing needn't be so dark. Now that this is out of the way, we can relax, enjoy ourselves. I know we haven't exactly had the best memories of each other, but I'm willing to bury those in favour of a brighter future." He takes a deep swig of his tea, relaxing into his chair. His eyes are light, peaceful. It's the calmest Alice has ever seen Nivens. "Let's stay awhile." His eyelids flutter shut as he continues to sip his tea. His voice drops to a soft lull. "Forget about the impending darkness that's always ready to consume us, if given the chance."

Alice leans back, watching the world go by outside the window. She takes another macron, a vanilla one this time, and takes a bite. Sweet, vanilla bean. A bird flies past, aimless and free.

Alice wonders what it'd be like to be the bird, to fly without direction, to simply _be_ without expectations.

Yet here she is on the ground, rooted by responsibility.

Once all this is over, truly over, she's going to fly away. Maybe to China.

Yes, China sounds wonderful.


	22. XXXY

**22**

Alice doesn't open the files until Saturday. Between her sessions with Professor Alden and the homework pile that only seems to grow with every passing day, there simply hasn't been time. That, and she can't risk opening them in front of Mirana, which proves difficult because she lives with her. She hates having to keep this from her, but she'd promised Nivens.

She ends up locking herself in a study room at the library after reserving one from her dorm. She shuts her phone off, not wanting to be distracted, and uses the code she's received to unlock the door.

Alice has never used a study room here before, but she doesn't want to risk anyone peering over her shoulder. They're typically meant for groups, but she highly doubts that anyone is seriously going to penalize her for using it alone.

The room has one table that seats six as well as a vase of red and white roses in the centre of it as well as a selection of crisps surrounding the vase. How thoughtful of them. She grabs a bag of Cheese and Onion Squares and sits in the chair farthest from the door. She powers on her laptop, and, as soon as it's booted properly, plugs in the pen drive, declining the scan her computer prompts her to do.

A new window pops up with the header, MCTWISP, BIBWIT H. There are three folders: XX, XY, and Unknown. Alice opens the XX folder first.

The XX folder has subfolders numbered one through eight. Clicking through them, Alice realizes that they're all young girls between the ages of nine and sixteen. XX must stand for the chromosome arrangement, which means that XY must be all the male experiments. If that's the case, then what's the Unknown folder for? Alice forces herself to focus on the current file set. She'll save the Unknown folder for last.

The subfolders contain profiles for each patient. By the time she gets to XX7's profile, she realizes that they're all the same format, the same form with a photo beside each one.

 **PATIENT'S PROFILE**

NAME: Orianna Turkel

AGE: 13

SEX: Female

BIRTHPLACE: Bristol

NATIONALITY: British

BIRTHDAY: March 15th, 1984

DATE & TIME OF ADMISSION: October 23, 1997/09:00 AM

FINAL DIAGNOSIS: Cured.

There's more extensive information, but Alice doesn't read that far just yet. Clicking into the XY main folder yields the same results. Alice dives right into the Unknown folder.

There are five subfolders in this one instead of the standard eight: Subject XXXY Profile, Subject XXXY Experiments, The Rebellion, Subject XXXY Conclusion.

Alice frowns. XXXY. Does that mean whoever this is are conjoined twins, a boy and a girl? She opens the folder labeled Subject XXXY Profile to have a look.

They aren't conjoined twins at all. Subject XXXY is a single person, wearing a hospital gown that is far too small for their lanky body. They have short, dark brown hair and pale eyes, smiling defiantly at the camera. Out of all the files she's opened, they are the only one smiling in their picture. Alice reads the information beside it.

 **PATIENT PROFILE**

NAME: Alfiora "Alfie" Jones

AGE: 16 ½

SEX: Unknown, has both male and female anatomy

BIRTHPLACE: Manchester

NATIONALITY: British

BIRTHDAY: January 17, 1981

DATE & TIME OF ADMISSION: October 27, 1997/05:00 AM

FINAL DIAGNOSIS: Unable to diagnose. Patient died before conclusive results could be drawn.

Alice gasps. Died? What happened?

She opens the next folder, but there's so much within it describing each part of every procedure so meticulously that she decides to open the folder after that, The Rebellion.

The Rebellion contains a single document, written like a journal entry. Alice opens it.

 _Entry No. 73_

 _12/10/1997_

 _Subject XXXY is getting out of control. It is much worse than before, much worse, and now that it has followers, there is a chance it may try to kill us all._

 _It started at 0500. Subject XXXY as well as its followers, XX1, 4, 7, and XY3, 7, 8 made an enormous racket in their sleeping quarters, banging on the walls, shouting for Angus and I to come at once and waking the other ten patients in the process._

 _I entered first and was immediately attacked by XY7 and 8. They had me bound with surprising speed utilizing their bedsheets and the single chair in their room before I had time to react. XX7 wrapped a considerably thick blanket around my throat, not tight enough to suffocate me just yet, but tight enough to remind me that the power had, indeed, shifted._

 _I yelled for Angus to go back, but it was too late. He came in after me, and XY3 and XX1 had him restrained within seconds, tying him to the bedpost on the bottom bunk. They drugged us with rags and we both passed out._

 _When we came to, we were in the laboratory, hands still tied but on the floor now, our restraints linked. All patients were present, including Subject XXXY. It smirked at us, with that demonic smile it hasn't stopped using since it arrived. It is truly insane. It commanded XY3 to bring out something called "Freedom Blaze". XY3 left to do so. Angus did not say a word during the entire ordeal, instead silently watching XY2. He had a plan, and XY2 was apparently the key._

 _XY3 returned with a wooden board bearing several bound matches and a water bottle filled with a yellowish liquid._

 _It didn't take me long to realize what was in that bottle, though how on earth XXXY had gotten their hands on petrol to begin with is beyond me._

 _The sight of it caused XX7, standing beside XXXY, to panic. This was not part of the plan. They had planned to force us to sign their release papers, that "Freedom Blaze" was only a last resort._

 _XXXY did not listen. It took a match from its pocket and approaches the board, which XY3 has set in the centre of the room. It smiled at us, a truly chilling sight, and speaks._

" _My name is Alfiora Jones. You took me from my family less than two months ago. I was not the first, but I will be the last." It paced the floor. "No longer will you take in innocent children to 'fix'. We are not broken. We are brave, we are strong, and we are the voice of those you would silence. I," XXXY looked around the room at its followers. "No, we, will not let you continue with your actions. Your reign of terror ends today."_

 _XXXY lights the match, and it was at this moment that I thought I was going to die. Still Angus remained silent, so, as I always have since we began this venture, I trusted him and did not say a word._

 _Before XXXY can set the matches off and effectively blow us out of existence, that is when Angus spoke._

" _Nathan!" he called. XY2 looks at him, seemingly afraid. "You're making a mistake." he entreats him. "Have I not taken care of you? Have I not been a good father?"_

 _XXXY crosses to Angus in an instant and slaps him, hard enough to leave a red handprint on his cheek. "Don't listen to him, Nathan." it growls. "He's full of nothing but lies."_

 _Angus carried on anyway, level, calm. "XXXY is wrong, Nathan. I am the only one who gives a damn about you. I am your only way to salvation."_

" _Enough of this!" XXXY shouted. "It's over, Angus!"_

 _It dropped the match and ran, taking XX7 with it. The others followed, disappearing out the lab door, but XY2 lingered._

" _Nathan!" XX7 yelled. "Come on!"_

 _XXXY continued to drag her. "We can't wait, come on!"_

 _XX7 and XXXY left together. XY2 stayed behind, deliberating, all the while the matches burned faster, closer to that deadly bottle._

" _Do something!" Angus commanded._

 _This snapped XY2 out of his trance, and he grabbed the bottle from the centre and flung it away. He grabbed a nearby blanket and smothered the flames, putting the fire out. He found a knife and cut us both free._

" _Good boy." Angus said. "Now, we need to recapture the others." He looked to me. "Alert the staff."_

 _So I did. I roused the staff, who had all been drugged with laudanum, I later found out, and we chased after those making their escape. At the end of the day, XX1, XX2, XX3, XX5, XY1, XY3, XY4, and XY5 escaped. Eight patients remain, plus Subject XXXY. Subject XXXY has been placed into solitary confinement, for now._

 _It is very unstable. Angus and I both agree that there is only one solution. We must put it down._

 _I just hope when the time comes, I can do it._

That particular entry ends there, but Alice doesn't need to read anymore. This alone is enough to condemn Dr. Bumby, and if the death penalty were still legal, could kill him. One witness, one child from the experiments would be more than enough.

But it would destroy Nivens's family.

Alice sighs. It would be so easy. This could be over, now! She wouldn't have to do anymore sessions with Professor Alden, Mirana wouldn't have to face Bumby again, and Mason could live in peace knowing he wouldn't be claimed by that awful man. The one piece of evidence Bumby won't be able to refute, and she can't even use it.

At least not yet. If anything, she and Nivens should try to track down one of the children involved with the experiments. They'd have to write them up as another witness, of course, but that wouldn't mean they'd necessarily have to use that person. It will be nice, though, to know that if all else failed, there is still a way that they will win for sure. Perhaps, if XX7 is still alive, they'll track her down. She seemed to be closest to Alfie, to XXXY, and if they find her, they'll have everything they need.

The trick will be in convincing Nivens to do such a thing.

She ejects the pen drive. If it's not one thing, it's another. She tucks the pen drive safely into her pocket and gets up from her chair, a little numb from sitting for so long. She shuts her computer off and slips it back into her bag. It's too tempting, too much to keep inside. She's going to blow up if she doesn't get out of her and do something soon.

* * *

"Alice!" Professor Flora rises from her desk to greet her. "How are you, dear?" she asks, clasping her hands warmly.

"Hi, Alice!" Mason calls from a corner of the room.

"Hello, Mason." Alice says with a smile. She peers over Professor Flora's shoulder to find Chess with him as well. "And Chess." she adds. Chess waves back at her cheerfully. Both boys are covered in paint, not a single drop on the canvas set up in front of them. At least nothing's changed in that regard. She turns back to Professor Flora. "I'm fine, Professor. Do you mind if I stay awhile?"

"Of course." Professor Flora gestures at the cabinet near the door. "I just got some new paints in, if you'd like to try them out."

Alice opens the cabinet door. "Shimmer paints?"

"I thought it'd be nice to add some variety."

"Mum!" Mason calls. "Where are the sponges?"

"Under the sink, dear!" Professor Flora replies. She smiles happily to herself. "He calls me 'mum' now. It's not official yet, not legally, but it makes me so glad that he's warmed up to the idea."

Alice picks out the yellow and violet shimmer paints, then takes the normal white paint. "Where is he living now? With you?"

"As much as I'd like that, no. It would be breaking a lot of rules, and that's the last thing we need right now. I did some shifting around with the arrangements. I was originally going to have him room with Tarrant and Bayard, but that would be overcrowding. I considered Nivens as well, but Thackery had already taken that vacancy, and he's more than qualified."

Alice raises an eyebrow. "Qualified for what?" she asks as she sets the paints up by a nearby easel.

"When Nivens returned, he enrolled in a prevention program, which is exactly what it sounds like. Thackery is acting as his protector, which Nivens certainly doesn't mind at all."

Alice picks out a medium sized canvas and turns it landscape. "Are you implying something?"

Professor Flora grins devilishly. "Not implying. Observing."

Alice can't help but laugh at that. She digs into another cabinet and grabs a few choice brushes. "Is that what you all do in your spare time? Pair us off?"

Professor Flora snickers. "Some of us, yes. The French professor, oh, her name's slipped my mind," Professor Flora's brow furrows. "Nope, can't recall. Ah well, anyhow, the French professor has a betting pool going on. Speaking of which, she owes me twenty pounds."

Alice nearly drops the jar of white paint. "Madame Delacroix?"

"That's her name!" Professor Flora exclaims with a snap of her fingers. "Yes, Madame Delacroix."

Alice shakes her head. She's not surprised something like this goes on with the staff, but she didn't expect to be hearing about it. She mixes in a bit of white with the yellow. "What does she owe you twenty pounds for?"

"You and Mirana. She wouldn't believe me until she saw you two together yesterday."

Alice snorts. "Well, I'm glad that worked out in your favour." she says, taking a massive brush and coating the canvas thoroughly.

"I'd be happy for you regardless, because it's about time." Professor Flora says. "Don't mention that to Madame Delacroix, though. Pay is pay."

"Does Professor Alden participate?" Alice fans at the canvas to try and make the paint dry faster.

"Absolem thinks the whole idea is stupid, but he likes to see the results."

"Of course he does." Alice tests the paint with her finger. Good enough. "So who does Mason live with, then?"

"It was between Chess and Baxton, since both live alone now ever since James was removed. I chose Chess because the two of them already get on so well."

Alice dips another slightly thinner brush into the violet shimmer paint. "When will he start living with you?" She applies the paint with long, quick strokes to create some grass.

"Assuming everything goes well at the trial, we start the pre-placement period of one month. Then there's post-placement, which is normally six months, but I'm going to see if I can get that reduced. After that, all that will be left will be to change his name legally."

Alice stops midstroke to look at Professor Flora. "I promise you, we're going to win."

"You sound so sure. How do you know?"

"Lucky feeling."


	23. One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

**23**

Alice has to wait another week before even broaching the subject with Nivens, and his answer is exactly what she should have expected.

"Alice, do you know what last resort means?"

He wheels his cart, the books thumping a little against the metal as he pushes it down the long corridors between bookshelves. Ever since his return, he's been demoted, in a way, to book restocker and organizer rather than hall monitor. It's less interaction, and, hopefully, according to the staff, therefore less stressful for him.

Alice catches a book that's about to fall from the cart, pushing it back into place. "Yes, I do." she says, carefully containing her annoyance. She'd nearly forgotten that this pompous, self-righteous side of him still exists.

"Then why," Nivens grabs a book from the top of the cart, pushing a little space between a couple of books on the shelf to make room. He glances at the spine. "Diggory, right here." he mutters to himself. He slides it between the books. "Are you even bringing it up? You haven't even had the preliminary trial yet. You don't know if you'll even need to do that." He picks up another book. "Lockhart." He makes a disgusted face, replaces it back in the cart, and pushes on.

Alice follows him still, determined. "It won't look good for us if we bring in an undocumented witness." she whispers through her teeth. "We need a backup plan."

Nivens stops the cart again and shuffles a few books around. "Sounds like you don't have much faith in your case." he says. He pushes the Lockhart book into place with the rest of the series.

"I just don't want any chance of us losing."

Nivens abruptly turns around. "Do you still have the pen drive?"

Alice frowns. "Yes, but —"

He holds his hand out. "Give it here. So you won't be tempted."

"Nivens!"

"Keep your voice down." he hisses. "The drive."

Alice reluctantly fishes it out of her pocket and gives it to him. Nivens tucks it alongside his pocket watch in his vest. "If the preliminary doesn't go well, then you can come to me. Now please, leave me alone."

Alice bites back a stream of curses and nods, giving him a tight smile. She turns on her heel and leaves Nivens to his dusty old books.

* * *

Three days. Three days until the trial. The preliminary hadn't gone particularly well, with the Underland party barely able to convince the judge that Bumby did, indeed, need to go on trial. Bumby had pushed back quite a bit, bringing up the point that Mirana had checked herself in, implying her consent and violating the contract she'd signed. Now, with the drive out of her hands, she's not sure what to do. Wilkins is meeting with Mirana right now, so there's no hope of distraction from the fact that they may very well lose.

Tarrant finds her curled up on the lawn outside near the Founder's statue, ripping bits of grass out of the lush bed of green, scowling. He kicks his legs underneath him and sits beside her. He's silent for a moment, watching her stain her fingers.

"The groundskeeper is going to kill you, you know." he says quietly. Alice continues to tear at the grass. He tries again. "Things not going well?"

"What do you think?"

"Okay, stop killing the grass." Tarrant says, uncurling her fingers. "That's not going to do anything. Tell me what's wrong."

"The bloody judge can't believe a word against Bumby. We haven't got any solid evidence." Alice rubs her fingertips together to give her something to fidget with. "It's our word against his, and his is winning."

"So why not get some evidence?"

Alice scoffs. "Oh, sure, let's drive down to the shop and pick some up. Should we get some milk while we're there as well?"

Tarrant doesn't even bat an eye. "Think about it. There's cameras in Rutledge." Alice frowns. She still doesn't understand. Tarrant continues, elaborating further. "So, there's recordings of every room, which means…" He trails off, hoping she'll finish his thought.

Alice's mind works at a blur, but suddenly, it clicks. "Video evidence." She sits up. "So I'll have to go back."

Tarrant smiles wanly. "No. _We_ 'll have to go back. You don't have to do this alone this time."

Alice shakes her head. "I've got to. There's no point in getting anyone else involved."

Tarrant rolls his eyes. "Not getting others involved has gotten you into a fair bit of messes. This isn't just about the two of you. It's about shutting that asylum down, about finally getting people to listen to us. And you can't do that by yourself." He thinks for a moment. "We'll need Mally. She knows how to pick locks really well."

"We're breaking in this time?"

"In the name of justice, yes." He stands up and offers a hand to Alice, who takes it and lets him pull her to her feet. "I don't think it'll matter which tapes we get, but if we can find the ones of Mirana and Mason, possibly of you and I as well, though those may be harder to find, that would be best."

Alice frowns. "The trial is in three days, Tarrant. When would we even go?"

"Tonight. The sooner the better."

Alice's stomach churns at the thought of going back, but without the drive and with Bumby having the court practically in his pocket, they really don't have a choice.

"Tonight, then."

* * *

At one in the morning, Alice quietly unzips the duffel bag Tarrant had slipped her in the Cibus earlier. She'd spent the rest of the day relaxing Mirana from her meeting, partially to distract herself from what she'd have to do tonight. Mirana doesn't suspect a thing, though it'd been a challenge wiggling out of that marshmallow she calls a bed. They'd taken to sleeping in all that white as opposed to Alice's much messier blue sheets, but that also meant slipping and sliding out of layers upon layers of white silk. Not the best candidate for sneaking, or for making Alice feel any less guilty for having to lie to Mirana.

The contents of the bag are simple — all black everything: jumper, trousers, sneakers. There's also a can of pepper spray with a note in Tarrant's hand ("Just in case"). The trousers are big enough to go over Alice's normal set, so she pulls them over along with the jumper. She unlaces her Converse and shoves them underneath her bed, replacing them with the black sneakers. One quick glance in the mirror tells her she looks very much like a burglar and will be treated as such if they're caught.

Well, too late to think on that now. She clips the pepper spray to one of the trouser belt loops. With one last glance at Mirana, not daring to give her a parting kiss on the forehead and risk waking her up, Alice pulls the hood up and down over her head.

Without Nivens patrolling the halls, it's much easier to get out to the parking lot. Tarrant is already waiting in his bright orange buggy, Mally in the passenger seat. Mally waves her down with a grin, and Alice runs over to jump into the back seat.

Once inside, Tarrant wastes no time getting them out of the parking lot. It is only when the school is well behind him that he relaxes, but only slightly. The air is thick with tension, Tarrant keeping his eyes firmly focused on the road, checking his mirrors every so often, Alice sitting in the back fidgeting with her fingers. Mally is shifting around in her seat, glancing out the window, at Tarrant, then at Alice. Given what they're about to do, Mally seems far too giddy, happy, even. Her little lock-picking kit sits on her lap, tenderly cradled in her hands.

She turns back to look at Alice, beaming. "Isn't this exciting?" she says. "We're about to break into an asylum!"

Alice smiles wanly, trying her best to join Mally's enthusiasm. She sees Tarrant's jaw clench out of the corner of her eye. "I don't see anything exciting about that." he says quietly.

Mally pouts. "Since when did I have to tell _you_ to lighten up? Yes, yes, we can all be very serious about this. But this is the sort of adventure you dream about when you're small! We're about to take down a monster, and that's exciting!"

Tarrant snorts, a hint of a smile creeping across his face. "You're still small, Mally."

Mally rolls her eyes, but she's smiling. "Small enough to make you stop being so grumpy. Let's play something fun!" She pops open the glove box. "Where's the album?"

"Underneath the blue papers." he says, keeping his eyes firmly trained on the road.

Mally pulls out a battered jewel CD case triumphantly and pops it into the player. She skips until she hits six, then lets it play. A slightly warped voice whispers out of the speakers:

 _Will you have some tea with me?_

An electric guitar riffs along, a bouncy little melody, joined seconds later by some sort of horns and a heavy, steady bass drum, slightly muffled.

 _Ladies and gentlemen_

The instruments grow clearer, then the music kicks up full swing as the rest of the drum kit layers in along with some trumpets. Mally elbows Tarrant.

"Come on, love, you know you want to." she says cheekily.

Tarrant's eyes light up, and he starts to sing, his voice light and breathy, speeding up ever so slightly as he lets the music fill him up, his shoulders rolling to the rhythm.

 _Ladies come on over here, let's have a lovely beer_

 _Let's hit the dance floor!_

Mally chuckles and joins in, her voice noticeably more nasal, but able to carry a tune fair enough.

 _Time for tea, time for tea, bread and jam and company_

 _Play the music nice and loud, love to see a dancing crowd_

As Mally and Tarrant get more into it, bopping around in their seats to this strange hybrid of swing and tech, Alice feels herself relax a little. She finds herself humming along to the relatively simple tune, her head moving slightly. Even though this car is carrying her closer and closer to the place of her nightmares, her friends have still managed to turn this into some happy-go-lucky roadtrip.

They could very well die from this.

The thought comes out of nowhere.

Suddenly, everything — the singing, the drums, the horns, the rolling tires — quiets to a dull roar. Her own heartbeat pounds in her ears: _boom, boom, boom, BOOM! boom, boom, boom, BOOM!_ Images flash before her eyes. The dirty, dingy rooms, tiny little prison cells. The sickeningly sterile scent, deceivingly clean in a place so filthy. Mattresses stuffed with bricks, guaranteeing weeks, months, of restless nights. A high pitched, whistling sound swells inside, joining her steady heartbeat. The crack of a whip against the pitted floor, ready to bite into her skin. The glint off long, deadly needles, filled with deathlike sleep. The click of a lighter.

Burning metal.

Gunmetal eyes.

Pain.

Red.

Fire.

Death.

Stop.

Stop.

Stop.

STOP!

"Alice!"

Alice's head snaps up and she gulps in air, belatedly realizing that she'd had her own fingers clamped around her throat. She slams her hands onto the upholstery, fingernails digging into the cushioning, her feet unfolding themselves from her chest and hitting the car floor, trying to ground herself. Her eyes focus, slowly, and she starts seeing grey, then fabric, the ceiling of the orange buggy. The high pitched whistle fades away. Her heart beat grows softer, calmer. She forces herself to relax her jaw, then her neck as she lets her head sit back on top of it. Tarrant's pulled over the car, and he and Mally are both staring at her with wide eyes. Alice risks a glance out the window. Hell incarnate. They've arrived.

"Maybe you should stay here —" Mally begins.

But Alice will have none of it. "No." she says firmly. "I've got to go in."

Tarrant still regards her with a wary eye. "It wouldn't be a good idea for you to, ah, break down, in the middle of that place." he says carefully, noticing Alice's growing scowl. "You won't be doing us any good… incapacitated."

Alice looks out the window again, back to Rutledge. She's been back here twice now, not counting her childhood time. Why is this time different? Why is she feeling this way now? Has she reached her breaking point? Has she been suppressing for so long that it's now come to explode?

No.

This will not control her.

So, instead of responding, Alice flips the lock and shoves the door open with her foot, stepping out into the chilly night air, into fate, come what may. —

Breaking in is much easier than any of them expected. All it took was a swift tug, and Tarrant got one window open. Mally and Alice come in right after him, careful to land as quietly as possible onto the floor. They check every hallway, careful to duck into the next one over whenever they see the occasional orderly, before concluding that there's nothing on the first floor. Tarrant starts for the elevator, but Alice shakes her head vehemently and motions him towards the stairs. Bumby will undoubtedly hear the elevator moving.

They climb the stairs, running on their toes to minimize the tapping of their shoes hitting the steps. The door to the second floor is locked, but after giving Mally a few minutes with her needles the knob easily clicks open. They check each door. This floor seems to be mostly offices, unlike the first floor being full of patients. There's one door at the end that sticks out from the rest, a steel door with three padlocks and a black plaque that reads: RECORDS. Mally fiddles with her kit, trying a few different needles.

 _Thud._

 _Thud._

 _Thud._

 _Thud._

Heavy, loafer footsteps thud down the hall. Mally's eyes widen, and Alice forgets to breathe. Tarrant wrings his hands as Mally hurries along, barely getting the lock open in time as the footsteps round the corner. The three of them lurch inside, slamming the door shut behind them, grimacing at the lound _BAM!_ it makes. Alice fumbles for a lightswitch, hearing Tarrant and Mally scramble to their feet, getting ready to fight if need be.

Blinding, fluorescent light floods the room, and Alice shuts her eyes immediately to close off the burning sensation. When she opens her eyes again, they've adjusted, and she realizes that the light is actually much dimmer than she'd initially thought.

The records room is much like cells they keep patients in, except it's full of green metal bookshelves stuffed with tapes, sorted in alphabetical order. Against the center wall is a black metal desk covered in papers, a laptop sitting on the top corner and a giant monitor in the center. A plush grey rolling chair with the stuffing coming out of the seat sits in front of it.

Alice goes straight to the shelves, going past the A's, the B's, the C's, skipping past the K's. She goes to the bottom shelf, the U's. There are only three names, but only one matters: Underland. She grabs that tape, holding it to her chest. This will help them win. Bumby can't talk his way out of video evidence. This is what she holds onto. This is what's going to help her keep it together.

 _Click_.

The knob on the door turns. Alice's eyes widen, and she mouths "hide" at Tarrant and Mally. Mally flips the switch off while Tarrant pushes the desk chair back. The door starts to move, pushing inward from the other side. The three of them scramble to get underneath the desk, which doesn't have much space there to begin with. Tarrant and Alice are mashed together side by side, their legs drawn up and their necks bent at uncomfortable angles. Mally barely fits in front of them, having to turn into them after she pulls the chair back into place. She's practically curled into their knees, her head resting on top of the caps. Alice shuts her eyes as the door is shoved the rest of the way open.

 _Thud._

 _Thud._

 _Thud._

The space beneath her lids brightens slightly. Whoever is in here has turned the lights on. Alice holds her breath, letting out tiny little puffs whenever she needed it, not daring to breathe normally. The tape is digging into her stomach, but she can't move it. She can't move anything. The person shuffles around the room, leather scuffing the floor. Alice knows those shoes, but she's praying she's wrong. She shouldn't open her eyes. She should not open her eyes.

She peers down through her eyelashes.

Bumby's loafers.

Two feet away.

Alice's chest tightens, but she stifles the hyperventilating she feels coming on, feeling the breath building up in her throat, burning. Bumby seems to stand there for an eternity, shifting his weight, presumably looking around the room.

Then, three thuds later, the light pops off and the door closes. The sound of Bumby's loafers fades away, and it is only then that Alice releases the breath she's been holding, hearing Mally and Tarrant do the same.

"Let's get out of here." Mally says, uncurling herself and moving the chair so she can get out.

Tarrant and Alice nod and follow suit, not even pausing to stretch their cramped muscles. They dash down the stairs as quietly as possible, going back out through the window downstairs, and, as soon as they're outside, sprint for Tarrant's buggy. Tarrant speeds out of there, his fingers wrapped tightly around the steering wheel.

As they fly down the road, not really thinking about what might happen if a cop might be out and about, something starts bubbling within Alice's chest. It's fluttery, nearly euphoric, and if Alice doesn't release it, she feels she may burst.

And it bursts, it bursts in a fit of giggles.

Alice laughs, laughs until her sides hurt, and it's so contagious that Tarrant and Mally can't help but join.

"We… did… it!" Mally wheezes.

"Ahahaha… yes… indeed!" Tarrant pants.

"We're going to win!" Alice pushes out, tears of joy streaming down her cheeks. "We're going… to be… okay!"

They carry on like that for a while before settling down, stewing in their mirth.

"I got your tape and mine as well, Alice." Tarrant says, turning into the academy lot.

"How are we going to watch them?" Alice asks. Finally, they're getting somewhere!

"I've got a player in my room." Tarrant says. "Bayard will be asleep."

Mally yawns. "Can I sleep over?"

Tarrant smiles fondly at her. "Of course. You did well, Mally."

"Mmmmhmm."

Tarrant parks his buggy, switching the car off. "Will you stay over, Alice?"

Alice shakes her head. "After we watch the videos, I've got to get back to Mirana." She smiles at the thought of crawling under those snowy blankets, snuggling with her queen. "Maybe some other time."

They get up to Tarrant's room, dragging their feet the entire way. The trip had taken an emotional toll on them all, especially Tarrant and Alice. It's 2:30 AM, and Bayard is asleep, as promised, snoring softly. Tarrant opens one of the drawers in his chest, pulling out his player and a monitor.

"Mally, Alice, change into something more comfortable. You can pick from my closet and get the clothes back to me in the morning." Tarrant pulls out some cables. "I'll set this up."

Mally bounds over, noticeably weighed down with exhaustion, and opens the top drawer. She picks out a gold and purple t-shirt, which ends up being more like a dress on her, and grabs a black and green striped shirt and a pair of yellow sweatpants, dropping them beside Tarrant. Tarrant mutters a thank you, and Alice moves in to try and find something to change into. She ends up with a loose, glittery red and orange shirt and somewhat matching crimson gym shorts. That'll be an outfit for Mirana to wake up to. She slips out of her black outfit and into Tarrant's clothes. The shimmery material feels amazing against her skin. Perhaps she'll find more shirts like this, in softer combinations.

By the time she's dressed and folded up her clothes, Tarrant's got the entire setup rigged and ready to go and Mally's made a pile of pillows and blankets on the floor. Alice sits beside her after handing Mirana's tape over to Tarrant. Tarrant pushes it into the player and sits back with them, grabbing the remote.

He turns to Alice. "Ready?"

Alice nods, bracing herself for whatever she may see.

Tarrant presses play.

The screen flickers for a minute, and then goes black. A quiet, deadly calm chuckle emanates from the box. Then, the camera focuses properly.

It's Bumby, and he's leering at the camera, sitting back in that same grey chair they'd been using as protection only moments before. His gunmetal eyes glimmer, piercing bullets waiting to be fired. He laughs for a little longer, his chin on one set of knuckles while the fingers of his other hand drum against the table.

"Hello, Alice."

Alice's heart stops. What is this?

"Nice try." Bumby leans back in the chair. "If you're watching this, then you must have thought you've won, until now. I knew you'd try something like this. You children are so predictable. Why do you think it was so easy, hmm?" Bumby smirks. "I'm always going to be a step ahead. You'll be back under my care soon, my dear. You, and any of your little accomplices." He leans in, so close that Alice can see the monitor reflected in his eyes, that menacing blue glow. "You've already lost." The picture lingers on his face, on that twisted smile, for a minute exactly, before going black.

Tarrant clicks the monitor off, sneaking a worried glance at Alice, who sits quiet, eyes still fixed on the screen. Mally makes to say something, but thinks better of it.

Alice stares at the blank screen for a good minute, the corner of her mouth twitching.

She exhales once, sharp, strained.

And slams her fist into the telly.


	24. If I Could, I Would

**24**

BAM!

"Fuck!"

White flashes of pain erupt in her knuckles, and she pulls back immediately.

Alice's fist smashed against the glass, but didn't even crack it. A loud ringing sound fills the room, as if someone had just smashed a gong with a mallet. She clutches her fist, the tops of her knuckles already beginning to redden.

"Oi!" Bayard mumbles, tossing in his sleep. He blindly gropes around his bed and flings a pillow in their general direction. It hits Tarrant, who simply tosses it back. "Keep it down, will you?" Bayard pulls the blanket up higher, rolling himself back over onto his other side.

Mally gets up, unsure of what to say. "I'll get you some ice, love." she says, going out of the dorm.

Alice stares down at her lap. She hates admitting it, but Bumby's right. He was one step ahead. She glances up at Tarrant, who is still looking at her worriedly. She gives him a wan smile. "Sorry about your telly."

Tarrant laughs, but it's mirthless. "I'm more concerned about your hand."

Alice snorts. "S'fine. It was a stupid thing to do."

Tarrant lifts the other two tapes. "Maybe these will be different?"

"We can always try."

By the time Mally returns with a bag of ice they've found that both tapes contained the same message as the first. Tarrant's shoved the tapes underneath his bed and now sits rubbing Alice's back gently while she lies on her stomach, her face in her hands as her fingers knead her temples. She sits up when she hears Mally settle beside her, taking the ice from her with a quick thanks before pressing it to her knuckles, hissing at the sudden chill. What if he's right? What if they've already lost?

Fine, then. If they've already lost, then there's only one thing for it.

"I'm going to kill him."

Tarrant's hand stills, and Mally snaps her head back to look at her in horror.

"You. Did not. Just. Say that." Tarrant says slowly, his eyes, green and gold, seeming to search for some sort of joke in hers. Finding none, he pulls his hand away. "I don't believe this."

Mally bites her lip. "You're joking, right, love?" She begins to wring her hands. "You're not actually thinking of —"

Alice springs up suddenly, letting the ice fall from her hand. "Why not? You heard him. We've lost. What else can we possibly do if he's got the court shoved so far up his arse they've forgotten what the sun looks like?"

"You don't know that for certain!" Tarrant counters, getting to his feet. "They're reasonable people, they have to be!"

But the panic in his eyes tells Alice that he's still trying to convince himself more than her, and it's not working. Alice shakes her head. "There's only one way we can stop him, Tarrant. Only one way we can keep him from hurting any of us ever again! He needs to _go_ , Tarrant!"

"No!" Tarrant's eyes are shifting rapidly around the room, though what he's looking for Alice can't be sure. "We can't — that would — we're not like him, Alice!" he sputters out.

 _Thump!_

The three of them turn to find Bayard sitting up, his legs swung over one side of the bed, his hair messy and hanging in his face. He looks through his fringe at them with sleepy eyes. "Since it's clear I won't be getting any sleep with you lot in here, let's all calm down, alright? You're worse than my kids." He strides over and fixes Tarrant's hat, which has gotten askew, and Tarrant's breathing slows down considerably, but the franticness in his eyes remains. "No one is killing anyone. Alice is just upset, right?" He gives Alice a pointed look; Alice reluctantly nods. "We're all upset. This just means we have to work harder. Have you forgotten that the Underlands still have a very powerful influence?" He says, bringing Tarrant back to the floor to sit with Mally. He motions for Alice to sit back down, and Alice does, replacing the ice pack. "Not to mention, you've got Wilkins on your side as well. His reputation didn't come from nothing, you know. You've got to remember that while Bumby is powerful, you have your own power players. You have to use them. Panicking and talking yourselves into doing something rash is exactly what Bumby would want."

Alice sighs. As much as she hates to admit it, Bayard is right. She'd nearly played right into Bumby's hands. "I just can't stand the idea that there's a chance we might lose." she says quietly.

Tarrant settles into the pillows, pulling his knees to his chest. He drums his fingers against his kneecaps for a moment. "I admit that I have had similar fantasies." he says quietly. "But I do not wish to make them a reality. Please, Alice, you must promise me that it will never come to that."

Alice tries to make the words come out. She really does. _I promise I won't kill Bumby_. The words are right there. But she can't. After everything he's done, if she were given the chance, without any danger of consequences, she would, in a heartbeat. Nothing would make her happier than to see the bastard dead.

She shakes her head. "I can't promise that, Tarrant. But —" she says quickly, noticing Tarrant starting to panic again. "I will promise you that I will only resort to that if there is absolutely nothing left." Her mind flashes to the experiments. Faces she's never known, lives destroyed because of something out of their control. "I can't forgive what he's done. It's too much. People have _died_ under his care. To promise not to end his life, if given the chance, to me, would be a disgrace to their memories. I'm sorry."

Tarrant nods, swallowing hard. "I can understand that. I wish I didn't, but I do."

Alice's thoughts are racing far beyond the present, thinking ahead. "I've got to go." she says, standing up. "There's one more thing I can try before the trial. If that doesn't work, all we can do is hope Wilkins is a match against whoever is representing Bumby. I can't sit around and wait for the adults to do everything for me."

Bayard nods in agreement. "Fairfarren, Alice."

Alice heads for the door, only to be stopped by Tarrant's hand on her shoulder.

"I hope you know what you're doing."


	25. Veni, Sancte Spiritus

**25**

"It's four in the morning, Alice. What in God's name do you want?"

"I need the drive, Nivens."

"Is this actually your last resort now, or are you just wanting it just to have?"

"It's my last resort. I need to track down a witness."

"This couldn't have waited until later? It's Sunday. Some of us actually take Sunday as a leisure day, the way it's meant to be."

"The trial is on Tuesday. I can't afford leisure time."

…

"Fine. Meet us in the parking lot at eight. Don't be late, and wear something nice."

"Okay, first, us? Second, are we going to Ipalm again?"

"Us meaning Thackery and I. And maybe later, but we're going to church first."

* * *

Four hours later Alice is sitting in the front row pew of an unfamiliar church wearing the same grey button down and black dress pants outfit as before, making a mental note to get more semi-formal button downs. She'd left her jacket in Niven's car, thinking it didn't fit the formality of a church setting. Her clothes seem to fit in with most people attending, but between Thackery and Nivens, she's wildly underdressed. Nivens wears a navy vest and matching bow tie and slacks, — his pocket watch ever present, glimmering, the chain hanging out slightly — a white dress shirt underneath. Thackery wears a similar combination, except his vest is harvest orange, his tie is a knit style with white dots, and his pants are black rather than matching his vest colour. Somehow Alice figures that Thackery, jeans-and-flannel-loving Thackery, didn't own any of this beforehand. However, with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his hair wind ruffled, Alice can't help but admit that he pulls off the look rather well, despite looking a little tired, and wonders if she could look that good in a vest.

The service goes by in a blur, boring as always, until it gets to the homily.

The priest steps up to the podium, pulls the mic down with an audible _creak_ , and begins to speak.

"Now, brothers and sisters, I understand that sometimes, it is difficult to resist temptation."

Alice groans inwardly. Aaaaaaand this is the part where they bring up homosexuality and how one must "resist the temptation of the flesh", and "this all will pass if one stays strong in the Lord".

"I am not speaking of the temptations of the flesh."

Hold on, what? Is he reading her mind? What other temptation does the church ever speak of anyway?

"I am speaking of temptation in general. Temptation to seek revenge. Temptation to give in to darkness. I know that there are times when that path seems to be the only way, but when we are scared, sometimes we cannot see the alternatives that would steer us away from eternal fire."

At this moment his eyes land on Alice, and she pales. How does he know?

"Violence is never the answer. When Cain killed Abel, he was cursed and marked for life. I find that no one understands how long eternity is until they have fallen for grace. Yes, nothing you do is unforgivable in the eyes of the Lord, but think of how much harder it will be for you to return to the light the further you descend into darkness. Sometimes you fall so far that you cannot find your way back. Realise what you are doing and stop yourself before it is too late. Do not become like Cain, dying the same way he killed his brother, buried underneath stone."

Alice frowns. Cain killed Abel because he was jealous that God favoured his sacrifice over his own. She isn't jealous of Bumby, is she? Or is the court God in this instance, and she is Cain, fearing that Bumby's Abel case will overpower hers? The court does play God in a sense that it decides the fate of those on trial. Is she no better than Cain if she takes that chance and ends Bumby's life?

She's lost, so lost that when it comes time to kneel after communion, the wafer dry and flavourless on her tongue, that she pulls down the kneeler with Thackery and Nivens, and prays, for the first time in years.

 _Hey, God_ , she begins, a bit hesitant. She knows that's not traditionally how most prayers start, but at this point, she doesn't have a script in front of her to guide her. _I… I need your help. I'm so scared that we're going to lose. I'm not sure how you're going to help, or if I'm just talking to myself right now, but I would appreciate any help you could send my way. People keep telling me you have a reason for everything._ Unbidden, a memory resurfaces: the announcement of her father's death. _You took my father away. You let me suffer in an asylum until I broke myself out. I don't understand the reasoning behind any of that. If you're so powerful, can't you just make this all go away? I wish you would. That would make all this so much easier. I know I haven't been the best about coming to church, or praying everyday, or wearing my faith on my sleeve like some people. So, if not for me, help… help Mirana. Help Mason. They both believe in you, even after everything they've been through. Let the witness we find help us on our way to victory. Give us something to help us win! If we win I… I'll come back to church. I'll go every Sunday. I'll try not to fall asleep during the service. I'll do anything, just please, let us win_.

No response. Not that Alice expected any, of course, but there isn't any harm in trying. She hears the kneelers being pushed up and unfolds her hands to follow suit.

Her knuckles are wet.

Alice quickly rubs at her eyes before Nivens and Thackery can notice that she ever cried.

* * *

It's relatively quiet as the three of them pile into the car. Nivens takes the driver's seat while Thackery punches in an address into his phone. He yawns, pulling out the clip that will attach the phone nearby for Nivens to reference, and fixes the phone into it, pressing play. He has to quickly turn it down when Siri starts shouting directions, shooting Alice an apologetic look.

"We'll be driving for a while. Miss Turkel is two hours away." Nivens says, pulling out of the parking lot. "We're stopping at Caffè Nero, though it's not as good as Ipalm, otherwise I won't be able to keep my eyes open."

Thackery seems to have already failed to do so, dozing off in the passenger seat. Alice buckles herself in. "You've already found a witness willing to speak with us?"

"Not so much willing as she was the only one I could track down. She doesn't know we're coming." Nivens glances back at her. "Did you tell Mirana where you were going?"

"No, I didn't tell her anything." Alice thought it'd be best that she didn't. She pulls her phone out to power it back on, having turned it off for mass.

And finds six new voicemails and several frantic text messages.

"Shit." she mutters under her breath.

"What's the matter?"

"I probably should have at least told Mirana that I was going out. I'm going to call her, do you mind?"

"Not at all."

Alice dials her number, mentally preparing herself for the tongue-lashing she's bound to receive.

 _Ri —_

The phone doesn't even finish ringing before it's abruptly cut off by Mirana picking up immediately.

"AlicewhereareyoudoyouhaveanyideahowworriedI'vebeenI'vebeencallingyouforthepasthourandyouhaven'tbeenrespondingwhichreallyisn'thelpingthings—"

"I'm out with Nivens and Thackery!" she blurts out before Mirana can keep going.

She hears Mirana take a breath, probably to make up for her rambling. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Um?" Nivens shrugs when she looks at him. "Secret friends?"

Nivens snorts at that. Alice can practically see Mirana rolling her eyes on the other end. "Since when is it a secret that you three are friends? And since when are you out of bed before ten on the weekends?"

"Let me talk to her. Put her on speaker." Nivens says.

Alice complies, holding her phone a little closer to the driver's seat. "Nivens is on." she says.

"Hello, Mirana?"

"Hello, Nivens."

"Right. Alice, Thackery, and I are going to retrieve some vital information for your case. We can't tell you what it is, but it will help you, if we are successful."

"And why can't I be there? Since it's for _my_ case."

"It's two hours away."

"I didn't want to wake you." Alice adds. "I just forgot to leave a note."

She hears Mirana grumble something on the other end, muffled. "Honestly, I appreciate what everyone is doing for me, but other than conversing with the lawyer no one has thought to involve me in anything else. I _know_ you snuck out with Tarrant, Alice. What you all seem to be forgetting is that it's _my_ name on the case. So, if you haven't gotten too far already, please come back for me. I don't want to just sit here while the rest of you go out there."

Alice feels the urge to point out that that is exactly what a queen does, but thinks better of it and keeps it to herself.

Nivens inhales sharply, then turns the car around. "Alright. Meet us out front."

"Thank you. Oh, and Alice?"

"Mmm?"

"You're not off the hook for this."

Alice groans, sinking into her seat as the phone beeps. Mirana's hung up. "What about the research? What about keeping it a secret?"

Nivens chews his lip. "Mirana is right. This is her name on the case. She, of all people, should have the right to know."

They continue the drive in silence, Thackery snoring softly. When they pull up to the academy, Mirana is waiting for them, wearing a considerable amount of colour. She has on a pale pink and red striped sweater, a baby blue skirt, and brown suede flats. Though her snowy hair and dark lips remain the same, it's clear that this is a leap from where she's been before. She joins Alice in the backseat, but sits considerably close to the door.

"We're stopping at Caffè Nero on the way." Nivens informs Mirana. "Order whatever you want, I'm paying."

"Thank you, Nivens." Mirana says curtly. "I'll return the favour another time." She shifts slightly to face Alice. "We need to talk."

Recognizing it as a somewhat private conversation, Nivens switches on the radio and fiddles with the dial until he finds a classical music station. The voices of piano, violin, and cello fill the car, a mellow backdrop for a potentially heavy exchange.

Mirana settles into her seat once the car begins to move again. "Why do you keep hiding things from me, Alice?"

Alice has trouble meeting her eyes, but makes an effort anyway, to try and show Mirana she's being sincere. "It seemed like the right thing to do, the only way to keep you safe."

"I could understand that with you breaking into the asylum, — which was a stupid thing to do, by the way, even if it was on my behalf — but you could have at least said something. Don't you realize what this looks like to me, you constantly sneaking around me?"

"I didn't —"

"It makes me feel like you don't trust me." Mirana says. "It makes me feel like you don't think I can handle myself, that you don't think I'm capable of —"

"That's not —"

Mirana cups her hand over Alice's mouth. "Alice, for once, shut up." She lowers her hand. "I know you think you're doing what's best for me, but you have to stop acting like you're my servant. You're my girlfriend, not my subject."

Despite herself, Alice's lips quirk up into a smile. "Girlfriend?"

"Um…" Mirana withdraws her hand, suddenly embarrassed. "Yes, I do believe that's the proper term for you."

The rest of the drive continues in silence, though Alice is smiling a little to herself as she watches the world go by.


	26. Finding Comfort In Your Skin

**WARNING**

 **This chapter contains a sex scene.**

* * *

 **26**

They arrive at the house without incident, pumped with caffeine and far too much sugar. Nivens was a little jittery at the wheel at first after downing his first cup, but soon his body adjusted and he settled into a more alert state. The caffeine didn't seem like a good idea, given his condition, but after reassuring Mirana that his doctor said it was alright, she'd let the matter drop.

The house is fairly impressive, modest, yet clearly very expensive. It's quite boxy with a modern flair — white slatted vertical walls paired with golden beech wood horizontal accent walls, the second story jutting out a bit over the first. The foliage is minimal, yet well-placed, trimmed to perfection in abstract shapes. The windows are large but appear frosted, making it impossible to see inside.

Nivens respectfully parks in front of the house rather than straight in the driveway. They have arrived uninvited, after all. After shaking Thackery awake, the four of them walk up to the front door, Alice and Mirana holding hands. Just as Nivens rings the doorbell, Alice notices a security camera mounted up in the corner. It makes her feel a bit uneasy, but she shoves the feeling aside.

The door opens to reveal a tall, muscular man with a bit of a boyish face in a white muscle shirt. His brown hair is a little greasy, unkempt, some scruff across his face and down his neck. His eyes are a light brown, a kind of soothing look in them. Despite knowing nothing about him, Alice feels oddly calmed by his presence.

"Well, hallo." he says. "Can I help you?"

Nivens steps forward. "We're here to see Orianna Turkel."

He frowns. "Erm, are you friends of hers?"

"Not exactly, but we need her help."

He raises an eyebrow but doesn't seem to want to question them further. "Ori!" he calls into the house. "There's some kids here to see you!"

"Alright!" a voice answers. "I'm coming!"

The man is joined by a pretty young woman with long, chocolate brown hair and pale blue eyes wearing a bright yellow floral dress. She looks oddly familiar, though Alice can't quite place her face.

She takes one look at Nivens, and screams.

"Woah, woah, Ori!" The man says, pulling her into his arms. "Hey, now. You're okay. What's the matter?"

Alice, Mirana, and Thackery all exchange puzzled looks. Is this woman insane? Meanwhile, Nivens remains perfectly stoic, seeming to study Orianna's reaction.

Orianna glares at Nivens, trembling. "Why is _he_ here?"

Nivens frowns. "I beg your pardon?"

"Leave, Bibwit!" she snarls. "I'm free of you!"

Nivens sighs. "Ah. I see the problem. I'm not Bibwit Harte." he says carefully, trying to ease Orianna from her defensive state. "I'm his son, Nivens McTwisp."

Orianna's eyes widen. "Bibwit has a child? No child should be _near_ him! No —"

"We've come to ask for your help, Orianna." Nivens continues over her, wanting to get things moving along.

"I'd rather die before I help a McTwisp." she growls.

The man looks somewhat apologetic. "I think you all should leave. Perhaps my wife isn't the right person to ask."

"What? No!" Alice sputters. "You don't understand, we —"

"Mum?"

"What's —"

"Going —"

"On?"

* * *

Ten minutes later Alice, Thackery, Mirana, and Nivens find themselves sitting on a black sofa across from Orianna, her husband, and Timmy and Tommy. Timmy and Tommy seem happy as ever, the husband looks a bit uncomfortable, and Orianna is resigned to staring at Nivens with cold eyes, her arms folded tightly.

The husband breaks the silence first. "Well, let's start over, shall we?" he says with a strained smile. "I'm Matthew, this is Orianna, and, of course, you know our boys." Timmy and Tommy beam at the four of them. "What about you lot?"

"I'm Alice Kingsleigh," Alice says, taking the initiative, feeling that maybe Nivens shouldn't speak as much, for now. "This is my girlfriend, Mirana Underland," In spite of the situation, she can't help but feel a little giddy at finally being able to say that. "And my friends, Thackery Maras and Nivens McTwisp. We're sorry to bother you, but we need your help, Orianna."

"We came here to talk to XY7." Nivens cuts in.

Orianna fixes him with a deathly glare. "Don't you ever call me that again." she says through clenched teeth.

"Sorry." Nivens says, though he doesn't seem to understand what he's done wrong.

"Maybe you shouldn't say anything, for now." Alice says gently. She turns her attention back to Orianna. "There's going to be a trial, this Tuesday. We're going against Angus Bumby, and we need you to testify against him."

Orianna rises abruptly, trying to keep calm. "You show up here, complete strangers to me. You bring _him_ ," she jerks her finger at Nivens. "And then you bring up Angus Bumby." She spits the name. "You're dredging parts of my life that I wanted to let die." Her eyes start shining with the first hints of tears, but she fights them. "I have spent so long trying to forget all of it. And now you want me to relive it. I cannot."

She turns on her heel and goes up the stairs. They're left in silence for a moment.

"Well that —"

"Was —"

"Rather —"

"Odd."

"I wonder —"

"What's —"

"Got her —"

"So —"

"Up —"

"Set."

"I'm not sure what's going on." Matthew says before the twins can continue with their dizzying speech. "But I really do think you should leave. It really seems like you've upset Ori. In fact, if you weren't friends of Timmy and Tommy, I wouldn't have even let you in."

Mirana rises. "Let me speak to her." she says.

Matthew shakes his head. "I'm not sure that would be —"

"Please." she says, flashing that dazzling smile that's never failed to melt any heart. "I think I understand her pain. I want her to know she's not alone."

Matthew seems to concede. "Alright. But I'll be waiting outside the door, just in case. You understand."

"Of course." She takes Alice's hand, pulling her to her feet. "Come with me?" she asks sweetly.

Alice nods, allowing Mirana to bring her upstairs, seeming to glide up each step, as if she's walking on air. Matthew follows fairly close behind, until he has to lead them to where the master bedroom actually is.

He knocks softly. "Ori, baby?" he says. "These kids really want to talk to you."

"I'm not talking to Bibwit junior!" a thick, watery voice responds.

"It's just the girls." Matthew reassures her. "Please, honey. It seems really important."

The door is opened a crack. "You have five minutes." she says numbly, opening it a little more to let Mirana and Alice in.

Alice and Mirana step inside, and Orianna immediately shuts the door behind her. Her eyes are puffy and red and her nose is fairly pink. Alice can't help but feel a little guilty as she watches Orianna settle onto her bed, clearly still working to calm herself down.

"Talk." she says.

Alice makes to speak, but Mirana places her hand over hers, giving her a look to tell her to stay silent, for now. "I don't know what exactly happened to you." she begins. "But I think I know, at least, a little, of how you must feel. The truth of the matter is, Angus Bumby has opened a conversion therapy center. Alice and I, as well as many others, were… patients. The practices that went on there were things that I do not enjoy recounting, though I feel I must. These are a result of being under his… care."

Mirana slowly rolls up her sleeves, revealing her scars, which are, though considerably better than what they were, still an angry reminder.

Orianna gasps, reaching for her wrists. "May I?" she asks tentatively.

"Of course." Mirana graciously offers her wrists to Orianna, who handles them with a feather light touch. "There's something else," she says carefully. She swallows hard. "He… he… violated me."

Orianna's eyes shoot up to meet hers. "He what?"

Mirana nods. "He's an awful, vile man that is still in business." She turns her head towards Alice. "He whipped and starved Alice, and she was much younger than I was when she was committed. You were ten, correct?"

"Right." Alice approaches slowly, not wanting to alarm Orianna. "We need your testimony, Orianna, to solidify our case against him. He has the public on his side right now, but with you beside us, we can't lose."

Orianna surveys her for a moment. "Would you mind letting me see your scars."

Alice looks to Mirana, who nods. She unbuttons her shirt and lets it drop to the floor, turning around to reveal the long pink lines running down her back. She flinches when she feels Orianna's cool fingers tracing over them, then relaxes as she gets used to them.

Orianna draws in a sharp breath. "And you were only ten then." She hands Alice back her shirt, which Alice quickly slips on again. "I don't know about this." she says. "I want to help you, I really do."

"I read through the files on his experiments." Alice says. Mirana gives her a questioning look. "I'll ask Nivens to let you read them later." she says to pacify her. "I read about Alfiora, and what they did."

Orianna seems to take that in, then sits on the edge of the bed. She pats the space beside her. "Both of you, come sit." she says. Alice and Mirana do so. "Alfie was an extremist. They were absolutely insane, but who wouldn't be? They got the worst of it as far as torture was concerned. All they ever wanted was to stop the pain. Not their pain, but everybody else's. And they saw Angus as the source of it all, so they thought, eliminate the source, eliminate the pain. Alfie's intentions were good. What they did wasn't. But that didn't change how I felt about them. I don't think anything could. I loved them, and they loved me. I would have married them if they'd asked me to." Orianna looks as if she's about to cry again, so Mirana takes the initiative and grabs a tissue from the box on the end table. "Thank you." she says, dabbing at her eyes. "I was the only one, out of all of us, who didn't commit suicide after Bumby… after Bumby killed them. I don't think that's what they would have wanted. They always talked about getting out, that once Bumby was gone, they were going to turn the place into a big party house. Make it the gayest, most liberal place anyone had ever seen. That would have been a sight." She laughs a little to herself. "I can understand why you'd want me there with you. What better evidence than a real subject from those experiments? Coupled with your files, Bumby would be absolutely destroyed."

"Exactly!" Alice says eagerly. "Come with us, and we can finally have our justice!"

Orianna shrugs. "I don't know." she says. "It all seems so easy, but I'm not sure if I can walk into a courtroom and face him again. I'm not sure I can handle it."

"I'm sure we can protect you." Alice says. "You shouldn't be in any danger."

"You saw me with the McTwisp boy." Orianna says pointedly. "If I can barely handle being in the same room with him, who knows how I'll be with Angus himself?"

"Orianna, try thinking of it this way." Mirana says. "If we don't stop him now, he'll just keep getting more powerful. One day, Timmy and Tommy could be targets."

"I —" Orianna stops herself, seeming to consider it. "How soon do you need an answer?"

"The trial is Tuesday."

Orianna sighs deeply. "You can register me for now, but know that I can't promise that I'll come in." She leans over and pulls out the top drawer of the end table, taking out a pad of paper and a pen. "Here's my email." she says, writing out the address. "Send me the location and the time of the trial so I can book a hotel nearby with Matthew." She tears off the paper with the address on it and hands it to Mirana. "I know it's not exactly the answer you were hoping for, but it's all I can give you."

"Thank you, Orianna." Mirana says. She rises, bringing Alice with her. "That's more than we could ever ask of you."

* * *

Two hours later, Alice and Mirana are back in their room. The pen drive is back in Alice's possession, Nivens having given it to her after they'd recounted what had transpired with Orianna. Mirana had read all the files, and now they're lying together on Mirana's bed, barefoot, the radiator going, Alice drawing little patterns up and down Mirana's arms, careful to avoid her wrists.

"Alice?"

"Mmm?"

Mirana rolls over onto her side, reaching down to pull Alice's face to hers. Her eyes instinctually flutter shut and she smiles, and they brush noses for the briefest of moments, her warm breath tiny puffs against her lips; then, she parts her lips, leaning in to close the distance between them. Their kiss is languid, gentle, an intimate waltz as she caresses Alice's lips with her own, nipping playfully at her lower lip as her hands slide down to settle on her hips, pulling her flush against her. Alice can feel warmth pooling already, reaching up to tangle her fingers in Mirana's hair. Mirana's tongue licks at her lips, so Alice opens for her, letting her explore. Her hands slip a little lower and squeeze. Mirana's breath hitches. Alice needs her, right here, right now. She needs Mirana to be hers.

Alice pulls back, pushing her onto her back. Mirana sits up a little as she slips her fingers underneath the pale pink sweater and the blouse underneath, pulling them up and over her head and casting them aside. Alice pulls the skirt off after, tossing it onto the pile, leaving Mirana in nothing but a white lace bra and panties.

Alice's eyes meet hers, and she can't help herself. She smiles again. Mirana's hers. This breathtaking woman is all hers. She peels off her pants, then discards her button down, all the while never taking her eyes off of this gorgeous woman. She crawls up to straddle her, feeling her perfect skin underneath her.

Alice leans down, her lips at her ear. "You're so beautiful." she whispers. She presses a kiss to Mirana's cheek, her jaw, then her neck. She feels her breath catch. "Absolutely stunning." Alice purrs against her skin.

She kisses down Mirana's neck, feeling Mirana move a little underneath her, the tiny little noises she makes as Alice's hands run up her sides, stopping just underneath her bra. Alice parts her lips and closes her teeth around her throat, pulling a moan from Mirana's lips while her fingers busily undo the clasp on her bra. Alice sucks on her neck, letting go with a soft _pop_ , leaving a mark that will definitely bruise later. She tosses the bra aside, finally, finally cupping her breasts and squeezing, brushing her thumbs over Mirana's nipples. Mirana whimpers, her hips moving up a little. Alice smirks, moving one of her hands down to her hip and replacing it with her mouth, drawing her nipple inside, curling her tongue around it while pinching and rolling the other. Mirana's hips buck harder, a strangled moan escaping her lips.

"Fuck, Alice."

Alice switches over to the other, getting a little rougher, nipping at her chest, marking her, making Mirana hers over and over again. She can feel how wet she is, and it's taking all Alice's self-control not to just push her legs apart and take her completely. Mirana's moans grow louder as she tries to grind against her. She's so wet. Alice needs her. She has to have her now.

She releases her nipple with another little _pop_ , kissing a path down her stomach. Mirana's breathing grows more ragged the lower Alice gets. She peers up at Mirana, and is met with a wondrous sight.

Mirana's chest is heaving, her face flushed, her pupils so dilated they're practically black.

Their eyes meet. "Please." she whimpers.

Alice hooks her fingers into Mirana's waistband and tugs her panties down agonizingly slow. It's torture for Alice too, but she forces herself to take her time. She tosses them away, settling between her legs. Mirana's absolutely soaked, dripping wet. All this, for her. Alice presses a kiss to her inner thigh, drawing tiny circles with her tongue as Mirana trembles beneath her.

"Alice, please!" she whines.

Alice can't deny her any longer. She drags her tongue up Mirana's slit, then thrusts her tongue inside. Mirana lets out a guttural moan, fisting her fingers into her hair, her nails scratching at Alice's scalp. Alice moans into her, sucking her clit into her mouth. Mirana bucks her hips into Alice's face, her little mewls driving Alice mad. Alice reaches up and thrusts two fingers inside, feeling Mirana tighten against them as she cries out. She's so close, Alice can feel it. She adds another finger, sucking harder on her clit. Mirana pushes Alice more into her, riding her fingers hard and fast, until at last, she comes apart.

Alice crawls back up to lie beside her, Mirana rolling over into her arms, snuggling into her chest, trembling with slight aftershock. Alice grins. "Good thing the dorms are mostly empty on the weekends."

Mirana laughs shakily, smacking her lightly on the arm, though it's more of a brush. She meets Alice's eyes. "Do you need to —"

"I don't need reciprocation right now." Alice says. "I'm happy with this. With you."

"Mmm." Mirana presses a kiss to the top of Alice's head. "We won't really see each other all too much tomorrow. Last day to prepare and all." She tilts Alice's chin up to look at her. "What do you think will happen?"

Alice wraps her arms around Mirana a little tighter. "I honestly don't know. We have a fairly good chance, but this is Bumby we're up against. Whatever happens, I'm going to be there every step of the way, because I love you, Mirana."

Mirana smiles. "I love you too, Alice. I'm so happy you're in my life."


	27. Our Lives in Everyone Else's Hands

**27**

Monday goes by in a blur, and soon, before anyone is truly ready for it, Tuesday arrives. Professor Alden has already handled getting Alice, Mirana, and Tarrant out of their classes for the day, and since Mason isn't officially enrolled, as of yet, Professor Flora simply takes the day off and brings him with her.

Alice and Mirana find themselves in the Underland car, with Genevieve and Ezra in the front and her mother sitting in the back beside them. The Underlands had taken Mirana and Alice shopping for their court outfits yesterday, dressing them with a clear strategy in mind.

For Mirana, Genevieve had decided to present her as the most innocent, purest victim possible, in order to try and gain the jury's sympathy. That means dressing her in all off whites, which Alice had objected to, at first, but had eventually seen Genevieve's point in doing so. Imagery is everything, after all, and they could bet that Bumby would be trying the same thing. So Mirana wears a cream coloured, ruffle sleeved blouse paired with a matching pencil skirt and flats, her hair styled into a braided crown to keep it out of her face. Her makeup is done a little lighter than usual, to soften her striking features. A gentle, snowy white owl in the midst of leering crows.

Alice is taken in the opposite direction. Her style is designed to be a sort of armour against Bumby, a strength to fight evil. She is dressed in a powerful navy blue three piece suit with a silver tie and pocket square acting as accents, a white dress shirt inside. At her insistence, Genevieve had also allowed her to wear her caterpillar pin, which stands proudly in mid crawl on her lapel. Professor Alden beside her in spirit. Her makeup, although much more subtle than Mirana's, draws her sharp cheekbones and a strong jaw. She's ready to face her abuser, a vigilant blue jay beside the owl.

They park on the top level of the parking structure just across the street from the courtroom. It's a grey, misty morning, typical weather, really, but today, it somehow seems much more grim. Alice steps out of the car as soon as they stop, feeling the chilly air nip at her cheeks. She opens the door for Mirana, taking her hand as she steps out.

For a moment they stand there, holding each other by the arms, not saying a word, simply gazing into each other's eyes. The looks between them say more than any words really could as they press their foreheads together.

"Don't go kissing her now," Genevieve gently chides. "You'll ruin her makeup."

Alice chuckles a little at that. Mirana merely smiles. The knot forming in the pit of her stomach won't allow her to do much else. They hold hands as they walk to the courtroom, the only shred of reassurance they've got in these little moments before they'll have to stand before everyone and fight a battle they're unsure of winning. They've received no word from the Dee family, and have resigned themselves to the fact that they're simply not going to show up. Understandable, but heartbreaking all the same. They won't be seeing any of the other witnesses beforehand anyway. Their lawyer, Wilkins, will be the only person they see beforehand.

And soon, the distance to the courtroom becomes only mere steps away, and the pair is faced with a towering white building. It is made entirely of brick, once a brilliant shining white, now faded with time to a slightly greyish colour. Above the massive arch that curls around the russet brown door, as well as embedded into the pillars on either side of the door, are elegant statues dressed in stone robes, their eyes seeming to peer down at their newest visitors. Atop the centre structure of the building is a massive steeple, supporting a shining ivory cross. Wilkins is already waiting for them, wearing the same brass coloured suit from before, and escorts them inside.

The interior is just as imposing as the exterior. The ceiling is high, spiraling up into a dome shape, lined with the same white brick as the exterior. Descending down, the wall splits into a blocky, wooden texture, dark mahogany, two long tables curving into semi circles to match. The chairs are lined with green leather, the same colour as the busily patterned floral carpeting. Everyone else is seated, and all eyes are on them as Wilkins sits them together, Alice at the very end, Mirana beside Tarrant. Tarrant himself looks nearly unrecognizable. His normally wild bright orange hair has been subdued into a hair gel infested, slicked back style, losing most of its volume, and bunned in the back. He wears a slate grey suit, a white shirt on the inside, partially unbuttoned. If Alice didn't know better, she wouldn't have realised that this posh looking gentleman and the brazen Tarrant are the same person. He catches her eye and waves feebly. He's just as nervous as she is.

Alice glances around the room, quickly finding the judge. Judge Sacha is a formidable man in his black robe and white collar, but the robe is the only traditional thing about him. Rather than wear a wig, his striking, well-groomed dark hair, — mutton chops, a thick mustache — is on full display as he surveys the room with striking blue eyes. In one hand, he fiddles with what appears to be a silver ball, rolling it between his fingers. This is the man that decides their futures. At the preliminary, he'd nearly been convinced that a full out trial wouldn't be necessary, and it was only due to the Underland family influence that they'd managed to get to this point. Rather than be on the defensive as they'd hoped, their position had shifted to the prosecutor, and Bumby pushed into a defenseless man of society being attacked by them. Today, they'd have to convince the court otherwise.

For now, though, they'd have to wait.

* * *

The other witnesses seemed to pass by in a blur. Wilkins had purposefully left Alice and Mirana for last, seeing as the they have the most compelling evidence between them, but as the cross-examinations began with Bumby's lawyer, McGowan, Alice grew a little nervous. If it weren't for Mirana's hand intertwined with hers underneath the table, she would've made several outbursts throughout the duration of the questioning. McGowan would expertly trap their own witnesses into admitting things that, while not entirely incorrect, did damage their case significantly. The jury would still offer sympathetic looks to Bumby, who merely sat there, smiling away, in an unconventionally pastel pink suit, no doubt designed to make him appear more friendly, approachable, and above all, harmless. Despite it not being quite up to standard with the sea of blue, black, and slate, with the occasional pop of white, it somehow worked for him, and absolutely infuriated Alice.

And before she knew it, Tarrant's examination and cross had been concluded, being pushed to admit that yes, they did break into the mental asylum to retrieve their own video tapes, which, there was no proof of that such tapes existed in the first place. Alice mentally kicks herself for forgetting to bring that taunting set of tapes that they did manage to steal, mentally preparing herself to go up next. Mirana would be saved for last, and then —

"The defense would like to call Mirana Marmoreal Underland to the stand." McGowan says, shuffling his papers and looking far too pleased with himself.

Alice jolts upright, looking frantically to Wilkins. It's not her turn yet! Wilkins just gives her a hopeless look. It's technically not illegal, after all.

Mirana releases Alice's hand after giving it a light squeeze, trying to tell her with her eyes that everything's going to be okay. The only comfort Alice can take in this is that at least Bumby won't be questioning Mirana directly.

Mirana places her hand on the Bible, raising the other.

The bailiff steps up to swear her in. "Do you solemnly swear that the testimony you are about to give at this hearing shall be the truth, and nothing but the truth, under penalty of perjury, so help you God?"

"I swear, by the Almighty God, that the evidence I give shall be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth." Mirana recites perfectly, without the slightest quaver in her voice.

The bailiff promptly seats her at the stand soon after. All eyes are on her, Alice most of all. What is Bumby playing at?

Mirana seats herself at the stand, carefully gathering her skirt to fall gracefully onto the seat beneath her. She's being so brave right now, staring the lawyer head on, wide eyed, innocent. Alice waits with bated breath for him to speak.

"Mirana Marmoreal Underland," McGowan says. He speaks her name in a slow, deliberate manner, gently, like laying honey to trap a butterfly. "Did you, in fact, check yourself into Rutledge Asylum, willingly, with no outside input whatsoever?"

Mirana looks at him, and says, quietly. "Yes. However —"

"And did you sign a contract when you checked yourself into Rutledge, willingly, without coercion?" McGowan continues over her.

Mirana bites her lip, takes a deep breath. "Yes, I did."

"No one forced you?"

"No one forced me."

McGowan smirks, making a note of something. He turns to Judge Sacha, an air of overconfidence about him. "There you have it, Your Honour. Miss Underland fully admits to checking herself into Dr. Bumby's care of her own free will, with a _binding_ contract. I believe that this, along with the charges against Alice Kingsleigh's multiple break ins, for which there is more than sufficient evidence, are enough to make a conviction."

Judge Sacha opens his mouth to speak, but is abruptly interrupted by —

 _BANG! BANG!_

The court doors are thrown open, and in the massive archway stands none other than Orianna Turkel-Dee.

Alone.

Judge Sacha seems relatively unfazed. "Miss, this is a court of law —"

"I'm a witness." Orianna says as calmly as she can. She strides over confidently, though she deliberately doesn't make eye contact with Bumby, and stands beside Mirana, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I couldn't sit at home any longer knowing there was a chance that this man," She jerks a finger at Bumby, yet still keeps her eyes lowered. "Would get away for what he's done."

McGowan smiles at Judge Sacha, though the strain in his eyes is apparent. "Judge Sacha, this is highly unorthodox —"

"I'll allow it." Judge Sacha says, cutting him off. "We have time. I'd like to hear what she has to say, Miss…?"

"Orianna Turkel-Dee, sir." she says.

"Very good. Then, Miss Turkel-Dee, we will add you to the register officially. I'd like to break for a short recess, and when we come back, we'll hear what you have to say. Everyone must return here at exactly," Judge Sacha rolls back the sleeve of his robe to reveal not one, but three, intricate watches adorning his right arm. "Eleven-thirty." He smacks the gavel twice. "Dismissed!"

There's a bit of organized chaos as everyone gets to their feet to leave the building. As soon as Alice and Mirana step out into the thinly veiled sun once more, it seems a bit of the weight of the day has been lifted from their shoulders, though Mirana still carries much of the tension in trying to keep her face at a perfect neutral. Alice, for her part, is in utter disbelief. Orianna had come after all, returned to face her abuser, despite being clearly in an unstable mental state, and yet, she'd managed to stand there and declare her allegiance all the same.

A budding bloom begins to sprout within her chest, her heart, like a sunflower daring to unfurl itself for the first time to face the world. Yet, before it can spread its shining yellow petals, Alice holds it in a partially closed position. McGowan had single handedly started to dismantle their arguments. Who's to say that he won't do the same to Orianna?

And yet, they do have the thumb drive.

But that presents another dilemma. All that evidence would not only convict Bumby, but Bibwit, Niven's father, as well. What's to stop Bibwit from denying the whole thing, from saying that the documents are fake, that none of it is real? When one's entire life is on the line, their reputation, their world, it can change them. What if Bibwit decides that putting himself at risk, no, putting himself definitely, in line for imprisonment, isn't worth it? After all, if they lose, it doesn't directly affect him. Nivens technically has no real ties to the case. Nivens didn't help break Mirana out, Nivens didn't help steal the faulty tapes, in fact, the only thing Nivens ever did was give them the files. Bibwit could just as easily deny everything and walk away. All Alice can do is hope that he isn't the sort of man to do such a thing, but she knows next to nothing about him.

Her thoughts are interrupted by Mirana tugging her sleeve, having switched from holding her hand to taking her arm. She belatedly realizes she'd stopped walking about halfway away from the courthouse, and finally registers Mirana studying her face, concern written in those dark eyes. "Alice, we're going with our parents to lunch. Tarrant, the McTwisps, and Orianna are following." Alice glances ahead and notices that indeed, the group has stopped, a few feet in front of them. "Are you alright?"

Alice manages a smile. "As much as I can be."

Mirana pulls her along to catch up with their group. "Come with me to the loo when we arrive."

Alice raises an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Just come with me."

* * *

They decide to go to the Black Bower, an eatery that wasn't classy enough to be called a restaurant but too refined to be called a café. They seat themselves at the largest table available, and once everyone has ordered, Mirana takes Alice's hand and leads her to the women's lavatory in the back. It's a single and fairly spacious, and Mirana locks it immediately behind them. She reaches Alice in two single strides, and envelops her in her arms, leaning down to rest her chin on Alice's shoulder, her cheek against hers. Alice returns the embrace, leaning into her, just feeling her there, in her arms.

"I've been waiting to do this since the moment we set foot in that awful room." Mirana murmurs into her ear.

Alice grins. "Is that all you've been waiting to do?"

Mirana giggles, the vibrations fluttering against Alice's chest. "I was getting to that part."

"So get to it then."

Mirana pulls back with a soft laugh, just looking at Alice for a moment. Her dark brown eyes, warm, sweet chocolate, trace over the planes of her face, caressing without touching. Seeing the way she looks at her, like she's the only thing that matters in this world, reminds Alice yet again that she'd happily die for her in a heartbeat. When one of Mirana's gentle hands comes up to cup her cheek, she habitually leans into the touch, key into lock, as those fingers trace a similar path her eyes had just done, the pads of the fingertips featherlight on her face. Her eyes flutter shut, forgetting where they are for a moment.

And then she feels Mirana's hot breath against her lips, and her heart pounds in anticipation, a rhythmic drum as if it were the first time all over again, until finally, Mirana's lips claim hers. There's no rush to this. Time seems to slow down, and all there is is just her and that heady vanilla bean scent, and Alice finds her hands trailing down Mirana's sides, coming to rest on her hips, pulling her flush against her own body, arching into her, needing her close in every way possible, feeling her chest press up against hers. Mirana's hands slide back from her cheeks to her hair, nails digging into her scalp ever so slightly as her lips completely dominate hers, taking control completely, trying to show her something, to speak, and Alice hears every word, and when that tongue brushes against her lips, asking for permission, she opens without a second thought, taking all of her in, a sensual, wet tango. She feels herself being pressed against the wall, quite firmly, as slender fingers of one hand slide down her slack covered thigh to pull one leg up and around her waist, pushing themselves even closer than before. That same hand comes to rest on Alice's hip as Alice's hands move up to wrap around Mirana's neck, moaning softly into her mouth when she tugs her bottom lip a little between her teeth, bucking into her skirt.

 _Bzzzzz._

 _Bzzzzzz._

 _Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzz._

Alice pulls back, face flushed, grimacing when her head smacks the washroom door. Mirana gingerly lifts her phone from her blazer pocket, sliding the answer button and leaving Alice to try and straighten her appearance in the mirror.

"Hello, Nivens." Mirana says brightly. She retrieves a tube of lipstick from her purse and begins reapplying. "Yes, we'll be out in a moment. We were just talking." Alice has to hold back a snort at that, wiping Mirana's lipstick off of her lips. "Alright. We'll be right out."

She hangs up Alice's phone and hands it back to her. "We should go."

Alice smirks. "Right. Because we spent so much time _talking_."

Mirana rolls her eyes. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"I could say the same for you." Alice offers her arm. "Shall we?"

Mirana takes her arm, and together they go out. For a little while, they can almost pretend they're just going out for a nice brunch with their families.

Almost.


	28. Placing Blame

**28**

The moment Alice and Mirana step outside the bathroom, they come face to face with Angus Bumby.

Alice feels Mirana's grip on her hand tighten, sees her jaw tense out of the corner of her eye. "What do you want?" she growls through clenched teeth.

"Just to talk." He looks pointedly at Alice. "To you."

Alice scowls, but releases Mirana's hand anyway. Might as well hear what the bastard has to say. "Go back to our table, Mirana. I'll join you in a moment."

"Alice —"

"I can handle myself." Alice says, her anger dropping for a moment to address Mirana. "Trust me."

Mirana hesitates for a moment, then nods, going to join the others at their table. Once she's left, Bumby gestures towards his table, but Alice stops him with a shake of her head.

"Not in here." she says. "Outside, where there will be plenty of witnesses if you decide to try anything."

Bumby smiles. "Of course. Plenty of witnesses to see you lose your mind." He smirks. "Again."

Alice holds back several insults and instead follows him outside.

Outside, the cars rush by in the streets, but there's still plenty of passerby along the sidewalk. Bumby seats himself on a nearby bench, pats the spot next to him. Alice stays right where she is, standing in front of him. He sighs, but does not persist.

"Alice, what do you hope to accomplish with this?" he says, leaning back lazily. He doesn't give her a chance to answer. "If it's my imprisonment you're after, you won't get it."

Alice's hands curl into fists. "What makes you so sure?"

Bumby laughs. "I'm too powerful. You think bringing Orianna into this will help? You think dragging Bibwit here will tip the scales in your favour? Bibwit is loyal to _me_ , Alice, and Orianna is a raving lunatic. Who are they going to believe? You, who have been committed to an insane asylum and bring only fellow half-wits to your aid, or me, a respectable doctor with a clean record? You cannot win. However, I know you'll drag this case out as long as you can, so I'm prepared to make you an offer."

Alice turns on her heel to leave. "I don't want anything from you."

"I'll drop the charges against Mirana."

Alice stops short but doesn't turn around. "What?"

"I'll drop the charges against Mirana. She'll be released from the case with no consequences."

Alice swallows hard, her jaw firmly locked. He's up to something, but her curiosity cannot be denied. "What's the catch?"

"Claim insanity and return to my care. I'm sure no one would have trouble believing you, and I can even testify for you myself. No one else would have to suffer. Think about it. If it weren't for you, none of this would have happened in the first place. The only reason Mirana is even on trial today is you. You were the reason she checked herself into Rutledge in the first place. If not for you, Mirana wouldn't have needed my care in the first place." He leers at her. "I suppose it wasn't entirely unpleasant. Miss Underland is a wonderfully well-developed specimen. I should be thanking you for bringing her right to me."

At those words, Alice sees red. She strides straight up to Bumby, seething, barely holding back, fingers clenching and unclenching, digging into her palms. "How many minds have you twisted into forgetfulness?"

Bumby laughs, a dry, merciless sound, not even bothering to get up. "Not enough. Yours would've been a triumph." He glances behind him, at the cars speeding past. "Go ahead. Push me into traffic. You'd only be helping me."

Alice follows his gaze. "Not much help if you die."

"Are you threatening me Alice?" He sits forward, cocking his head to one side. "No, that's what I thought. I need an answer, because once we go back in there, you decide if we enter as friends or enemies."

Alice's eyes flicker back and forth from Bumby to the cars. As much as she wants to hurl him into traffic, — he doesn't look like he'd be too heavy to lift — there's something inside that tells her this is not the answer, which leaves her with two alternatives: continue to fight Bumby and potentially lose, despite their latest witness, or, submit now and guarantee Mirana's safety. However, what is guaranteed, really? Surrendering would be, in some views, the right thing to do, because Bumby is right: this is her fault. She's the one who flipped the world upside down, so she should pay the price, right? And yet, is the safety of one person worth letting this monster continue his practices when she has a chance to have him destroyed? Does the possibility of justice outweigh the guilt of the catalyst?

Her mind flashes back to Frabjous Day, James kneeling on the ground, her hand holding the gun jammed against his head, finger hovering dangerously over the trigger. What would have happened if she'd shot him? What would have happened if she'd given in?

Her eyes finally rest on Bumby's.

And what would happen if she gave in now? If she pushed him and he died, she would be convicted of murder and detained in prison at Her Majesty's pleasure. Rutledge would have to be shut down, because as far as she knows, he has no successor, and maybe the patients there would be released to an actual mental health hospital and get some real help. Everyone would be free while she was left to rot away in a cell.

"I'm waiting Alice."

 _Push him_ , a voice in her mind whispers.

Maybe she really has gone mad. Maybe she should just submit and —

 _Bzzzz_.

Alice glances down at her phone. Mirana. She doesn't read it, but seeing her name on the screen reminds her why she's here. She's no good to Mirana in prison. Bumby must pay for what he's done, and Alice will fight until her last breath until he's locked up for good.

She pulls herself away, putting some distance between herself and Bumby. "We will always be enemies." she says.

Bumby sighs. "What a shame. Run along then, I suppose. I'll visit you all in prison."

Alice bites back a particularly scathing reply, turns on her heel, and leaves. She digs her phone out of her pocket to actually read what Mirana sent.

 _Mirana: Alice, the waiter's here. What do you want?_

 _Mirana: I ordered you cheesy leek and onion soup with a slice of rhubarb pie. Tarrant's ordered you a "special" drink, whatever that means._

 _Mirana: Is everything alright?_

 _Alice: Yeah, sorry. I'm coming back now._

 _Alice: Special drink?_

 _Mirana: Oh, good._

 _Mirana: He's covered it with his napkin and won't show anyone._

 _Mirana: You didn't do anything stupid, did you?_

 _Alice: Bumby is alive and unharmed, unfortunately, if that's what you mean._

 _Mirana: I'm glad you behaved._

 _Mirana: I'm waving at you, come over._

Alice puts her phone down and looks up to see Mirana waving at her, smiling. She feels a grin of her own spreading across her face in return. Bumby later, brunch now.

She takes her place between Tarrant and Mirana, feeling Mirana take her hand underneath the table, squeezing softly. Alice squeezes back, brushing her thumb over hers.

"What did he want?" Nivens asks.

"He tried to get me to back down. I refused." Tarrant hands her a thick looking drink that appears to be coral pink on top and golden yellow at the bottom, served in a jar with a large blue straw stuck in. It's cold to the touch and wet with condensation. "What's this?"

Tarrant beams. "Try it. I've got one too. What did he threaten you with?"

Alice takes a sip, fully aware that all eyes are on her now. Mango… and banana? There's something else too. Well, whatever it is, it's quite good. "He told me to claim insanity and hand myself over to him." she says, keeping her eyes firmly trained on her drink.

There is a collective gasp around the table, wide eyes, covered mouths all around.

"You didn't, right?" her mother asks, worry lining her face.

"No!" Alice says quickly. "We're still going on with the trial after this recess. That hasn't changed."

"But you considered it." Mirana says quietly.

Alice turns. "How did you —"

"Please, Alice, I'd like to think I know you by now." Mirana lets go of her hand. "Why would you —"

"Because this is my fault." Alice says, struggling to contain herself. "Because if it weren't for me, you wouldn't be going through this right now."

"Bullshit."

Eyes shift to Orianna, who hasn't said much since the courtroom. She squirms a little under the attention but regains her speech well enough. "None of this is your fault. Bumby's transgressions didn't end with me and my friends, they won't end with Mirana, and they're still going on, even now, at the asylum. Alice, he is panicking. That is the only reason why he approached you. We've got him right where we want him."

Bibwit nods. "She's right. Angus is grasping at anything he can get ahold of. Bringing Miss Turkel-Dee in has set him on edge. I saw a flash of it in his eyes the moment he walked in, something others would miss. But not me." His eyes meet Alice's, and she knows what he's going to say before he says it. "Because I know him very well."

"You're the best thing that ever happened to me, Alice." Mirana says. "I don't regret anything that's happened. The fact that you're still here, by my side, means much more than you'll ever realise."

Alice leans over, pressing her forehead to hers. "How could I ever leave you?"

There's silence for a moment, then—

"Good God, Alice, you're so nauseatingly sappy." Nivens teases. "Our food hasn't even come yet but I think I feel a bit of bile coming on."

It's an awkward joke, but it works. The table erupts into laughter just as the waitress comes by wheeling a cart with what can be presumed to be their food. Dishes are distributed, and Alice for the most part tries to actually taste her food and stay in the moment rather than jumping ahead into the future, into uncertainty. Mirana's fingers intertwined with hers beneath the table is the only thing keeping her grounded in the present, in a fleeting moment of peace.


	29. The End of Everything

**29**

Too soon they're back in the courtroom. Now, with Orianna added on, she and Alice are the only witnesses left for the defense. Alice is up first, though why they're leaving Orianna for last is beyond her. She gets herself sworn in, then takes her seat at the stand. McGowan locks eyes with her, and suddenly her collar feels too tight. What approach will he take with her?

"Alice."

So it's the friendly approach, then. Well, "friendly".

"We've established that you did, in fact, break into Rutledge Asylum, and illegally discharged two patients under Dr. Angus Bumby's care: Mirana Marmoreal Underland and Mason Potter. You do not deny this?"

"No." Alice says, gritting her teeth. "But I had good reas —"

"We've also found that you are a former patient of the same institution. Your discharge was also illegal. Do you deny this?"

"No, but if you'd just —"

"Then how can anything you say be of any credit? You've proven yourself mentally unstable —"

"Mr. McGowan," Judge Sacha says lazily, apparently growing bored of this line of questioning. For once, the lawyer gets interrupted and shuts his mouth. "Miss Kingsleigh is a witness, not the plaintiff. Please keep your questions related to the case at hand and not the young lady's personal state."

McGowan bites his lip, releasing it with an obnoxiously loud smack. "Of course. However —"

"There is no 'however'." Judge Sacha says. "Just do your job."

"Very well. Alice," McGowan tries to regain some sort of dignity. "You smuggled Mirana Underland and Mason Potter out of Rutledge Asylum under an alias and a forged release letter claiming to be from Genevieve Underland, correct?"

Alice swallows hard. "Yes."

McGowan gestures at the projector, which now flashes the document as well as a photograph of Alice as Alan Ratcliffe side by side. "Do you recognise these images as being the same as you created?"

"Yes."

"Then do you admit to forgery as well?"

Alice opens her mouth to answer but is cut off, not by McGowan this time, but by Wilkins.

"Objection, Your Honour." Wilkins says.

"On what grounds?" McGowan hisses.

"Relevance." Wilkins says calmly. "Miss Kingsleigh has already acknowledged her forgery in your previous questions. If that is your only line of questioning, I suggest you withdraw."

"Sustained." Judge Sacha says. "Well, Mr. McGowan? Anything further?"

"Yes, Your Honour," McGowan shuffles some papers around. "Just a moment. Ah. Alice," he says, regathering himself. "Would you say that Miss Underland was mentally unstable before entering into my client's care?"

Alice nearly chokes. "I —"

"Objection," Wilkins cuts in. "Speculation. Miss Kingsleigh has no way of knowing Miss Underland's mental state; she is not a mind reader."

"Yes, but there are outward signs." McGowan counters. "Otherwise you're calling into question several qualified professionals, my client included —"

"That is exactly what we're doing." Wilkins says calmly. "Calling your client's practices into question."

"Objection sustained." Judge Sacha intervenes before the argument can continue. "Mr. McGowan, please continue."

McGowan once again returns his focus back to Alice. "Alice," Despite the situation, Alice has to bite back a laugh at how half-mad he looks. He forces a smile, which comes out more as a pained flash of teeth. "You illegally discharged two patients under my client's care on the grounds that my client was treating them with immoral methods. However, if my client's practices were immoral, why the sneaking around? Why not report him outright? Why go through all this trouble, all this disguising and forging nonsense, if what my client is doing is so irrevocably wrong?"

That answer is easy. Alice straightens up. "No one would have believed us on our word alone. All I had were my memories, then, and I would have been dismissed as too young to remember, too young to be credible. I would have been told it was only my wild imagination acting up again. But now," she smiles, getting ahead of herself. "I have evidence of Dr. Bumby's practices, and I assure you all that once it has been given it will be irrefutable that this man," she says, lowering her gaze to Bumby. "Belongs in prison."

Her eyes flicker back to McGowan, who has turned a deathly shade of white. She watches him glance over at Bumby, who merely smiles at him, quite calmly for what Alice has just said. He clears his throat, steps back. "No further questions, Your Honour."

Judge Sacha nods. "This evidence you've mentioned," he says, leaning down to look at her. "What are you referring to, exactly?"

"There's a pen drive with information on the practices of Rutledge Asylum from many years ago," she says. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Nivens's eyes on her, and she wishes she could shoot him an apologetic look, but it has to be done. "Practices that are still going on today. That alone proves that all our claims are true."

"Very well, have someone bring it forward."

Someone goes off to retrieve the drive from the evidence cache. A soft cough draws everyone's attention. It's Bumby, and he smiles when he sees that all eyes are on him. "Your Honour, if I may speak." Judge Sacha gestures for him to continue. "As Miss Kingsleigh stated, whatever information is on that drive is many years old and therefore outdated. I would question the relevance of this evidence when it isn't even current."

There is a quiet murmur among the jury, but a few quick raps from Judge Sacha silence the court. "Dr. Bumby," he says. "Was Rutledge Asylum still under your administration at the time these files were recorded?"

That stops Bumby short. "Yes, I was, but I hardly see why that means anything."

"On the contrary, Dr. Bumby, that means everything. Regardless of the time period, if the institution was still under your authority at the time of recording, you are still considered fully responsible."

As this exchange is going on, people are setting up a projector screen. Someone plugs in the pen drive and the file selection appears on screen. Someone else dims the lights to increase the visibility.

Judge Sacha turns to her once more. "Which one should we start with, Miss Kingsleigh?"

Alice looks at the screen. "Open the XX folder, then the XX7 file."

Someone working the computer does so, and the file full screens on the image of a young Orianna. Alice sneaks a glance at Orianna, who only stares at herself, jaw locked. After they've reviewed the basic file, they open another folder that Alice had only looked at once, and for good reason. They are also images of Orianna, but… different.

These are of Orianna post-admission. Her eyes are hollow, a dull gunmetal blue, dark circles carved underneath. Her hair is stringy, dirty, draping around her face like a ragged curtain. In one particular photo, she's lying on her side, her knees drawn up to her chin, hugging her legs. Her face is clearly tearstained, and there is a bruise on her arm that unmistakably follows a pattern of fingers gripping too hard. There is a collective gasp from the jury as they go through the rest of Orianna's photos, each one more devastating than the last. By the end of them, Alice sees Orianna's head is buried in her hands, and Mirana, beside her, is rubbing her back reassuringly. Maybe they should've asked her husband to come, but the drive would've been too long, and Mirana would have to be enough to comfort her for now.

The jury's expressions have changed from sympathy towards Bumby to absolute horror. Judge Sacha's mouth has formed into a thin, hard line, practically disappearing beneath his mustache. "Well, Dr. Bumby?"

Dr. Bumby chuckles, startling Alice. How could he be laughing, now, with evidence so undeniably convicting right before his eyes? "It's a simple explanation, Your Honour. That isn't my name on the pen drive. Dr. Bibwit Harte is the one on the label, not me. He is clearly the one behind all of this."

Bibwit colours and jumps out of his seat. "I'll throttle you, Angus!" he shouts, his face scarlet with rage.

Nivens tugs his father back to a seating position with some difficulty, mumbling something to him that seemed to placate him, barely. He sits quietly beside his son, silently seething.

Dr. Bumby doesn't appear ruffled in the slightest. "Oh my. There you have it. Clearly an aggressive, unstable man."

Alice fights the urge to slam his head into the table he's sitting at and forges on. "Open the Unknown folder. There's a subfolder called the Rebellion," Her eyes shift to Bumby. "With a document that has Dr. Bumby's name throughout."

It's the briefest millisecond, but Alice sees a flash of what Bibwit had mentioned before: panic. Now she's got him.

Before they can open the subfolder, Bumby speaks up again. "And how credible are these documents anyway? How do we know these weren't edited, drawn up beforehand? How do we know these documents are legitimate?"

But no one is listening to him anymore as the document is brought on screen. Judge Sacha asks Bibwit to read it aloud, and by the time he's finished, there's no question about it. The court has turned against Bumby and in their favour. Alice holds back a sigh of relief. It won't be over until Judge Sacha lets them go.

Everything goes by in a blur. They check the dates on the documents just to satisfy Dr. Bumby, and the dates match those on the files. Orianna confirms everything on the drive and supplies some additional testimony. Dr. Bumby grows more and more frantic, attempting to refute every claim, but he's drowning now. Eventually, the weight of all the evidence crushes him, and he concedes defeat. He and Bibwit are taken aside for further questioning, Nivens following at his own insistence, but all Alice can hear is Judge Sacha saying—

"In the matter of Underland versus Bumby, this case is dismissed. Miss Underland and her party are free to go."

* * *

As they exit the courthouse for the last time, that's when the celebration starts. Tarrant whoops, mussing up his hair into its usual wild state. He pops out his hat, though where he's been stashing it all this time is beyond Alice, opens it up, and sticks it on his head where it belongs. The Underlands and her mother hug Mirana and Alice tightly, and Orianna gives them a triumphant smile.

"I'm going to call a cab to drive me back to my hotel. Matt will pick me up from there." she places a hesitant hand on each of Alice and Mirana's shoulders, squeezing gently. "Thank you both so much, for everything."

She goes off to call a ride back, freeing them up to be enveloped by another group hug with both their families and Tarrant. While Alice is relieved and happy that they're finally free of Bumby, all she wants right now is to go back to her dorm, get out of these constricting clothes, cuddle up with Mirana, — in her girlfriend's bed, since she has fluffier sheets — and sleep for a thousand years. With every weight off of her shoulders, it's an immense feeling of lightness that's taking over her, and she can feel herself floating along on a high of freedom, and yet, at the same time, the exhaustion that comes with relief.

They go for ice cream at Tarrant's suggestion at Gialata's, a new parlour that just opened up across the street he found off his GPS. They find a booth towards the front and sit down, the parents on one side, Mirana sandwiched between Tarrant and Alice on the other, Alice sitting on the inside. Alice leans against the cool tile walls, murmuring an order to Mirana that vaguely resembled the words "chocolate" and "peanut butter". The adults chat excitedly among themselves about possibly meeting for a group dinner, Alice's mother inviting Mirana's parents to their Christmas ball, Mirana's parents accepting on the condition that they make an appearance at hers as well. Tarrant, noticing Alice's exhausted eyes, takes that as his cue to go fiddle with the jukebox nearby. He understands that they can catch up later.

Mirana leans into her a little to talk to her without being overheard. "Are you alright?" she whispers.

Alice smiles. "Just emotionally exhausted. But at least it's finally over. I just can't wait to get out of these clothes."

Mirana smirks. "I was hoping I'd be able to do that." she says, her lips at her ear.

Alice flushes. "Mirana," she says, barely above a whisper. "Your parents are right there."

She snickers. "They're too focused on trying to coordinate with your mum for Christmas. They're not even looking at us." She wraps an arm around Alice's waist underneath the table, idly playing with her belt loop. "I really want to kiss you right now." she whispers into her hair. "Do you think we could get away with sneaking off to the loo again?"

Alice laughs, though the desire is definitely mutual. "They'll know something's up. Your father did say nothing until we're married."

"Whoops."

Their ice cream arrives then before Alice can reply. Despite how much she wants to get back to the dorm, she enjoys her ice cream anyway, the rich chocolate complementing the creamy peanut butter rather well in a perfect blend. Tarrant comes back then, digging in immediately into his Candy Land Wacky sundae, a new pink creation from New York covered with cotton candy on top and sprinkled with brightly coloured candies, gumdrops jammed into the sides. Mirana's is a simple mint chocolate chip with dark chocolate chunks. Alice tries a bit of hers and immediately decides that mint and peanut butter is a terrible combination.

Finally, the outing comes to an end, and Alice and Mirana ride back with their families and Tarrant to their dorm. They say goodbye to their families at the parking lot, Tarrant at the divide between their dorms. Alice all but falls inside their room, shrugging her blazer off before flopping straight onto Mirana's bed.

She hears Mirana giggle. "I suppose you've claimed my bed for the night?"

"Mmmm. Soooo fluffy."

"Not in those clothes you aren't." She feels a dip in the bed as Mirana sits down. "Sit up for me."

Alice groans her disapproval but does as Mirana asks anyway. Her eyes land on her, and her breath hitches. In the time they'd gotten back in their room, Mirana had somehow shed all her clothing, save for her undergarments, which, for once, aren't white but a pale baby blue.

Mirana notices her staring and grins. "You're not the only one who wanted out of her clothes." She straddles Alice's lap, undoing her tie first, tossing it aside, then unbuttoning her shirt. "Up." she says, patting her arms. Alice lifts her arms, letting Mirana pull her shirt off. She adjusts her position to slip off her pants, letting them join the tie and the shirt on the floor in a messy pile. She tries to stay still, but her eyes keep going to the clothes pile.

Now it's Alice's turn to smirk. "You want to hang those, don't you?"

Mirana looks away from them. "No, it's fine, lie down."

Alice laughs. "Go hang them. I'll be here."

Mirana rolls her eyes. "Thanks so much."

But she gets off of her to hang up their clothes anyway. It doesn't take long, and she's soon back into Alice's arms. Alice moves the covers out from under them, pulling them on top. She threads her fingers through Mirana's soft, snowy white hair. Feeling her warm body cuddled up against hers, her face finally truly relaxed, the rise and fall of her chest against hers as she breathes, Alice is overcome with love for this wonderful woman and finally does what she's been wanting to do since they got out of the courthouse.

She cups her face and kisses her, lips caressing Mirana's as she pulls her closer, anything to keep her near, to never let go of her again. Her heart sighs happily, content, as Mirana responds immediately, hands moving to tangle in Alice's hair. She rolls them over onto their sides, wrapping a leg around Alice's waist, pushing their bodies flush together. Safety, warmth, happiness at last. Alice pulls back for a moment only to breathe out—

"I love you."


	30. Alice in Wonderland (Epilogue)

**30**

"Alice, hold still."

"I am!"

"Tarrant, distract her, will you?"

"On it."

It's been eight months since the trial, the day of prom. Tarrant, Bayard, Mally, and Alice are all sat around Tarrant and Bayard's dorm, the boys lounging on Bayard's bed, Bayard messing about with his guitar, while Mally touches up Alice's eye makeup. Everyone else is scouting out good locations to take photos before they drive off to the venue in Tarrant and Nivens' cars, Baxton driving himself.

Tarrant gets off of Bayard's bed and goes to sit beside Alice, Mally dabbing a bit more colour in the corners of her eyes.

"Nervous?" he asks with a cheeky grin.

"Oh, stuff it." Alice grumbles. "It's just my eyes, I always flinch when my eyes are getting done."

"Right." Tarrant says. "I'm just surprised is all. After all we've been through together, something like this can still get you nervous."

"You ought to get a girlfriend." Bayard says, picking at the strings. He clamps on a capo. "Or a boyfriend." he says when Tarrant wrinkles his nose. Tarrant snorts, falling back onto the bed and jolting Mally, earning him a slap on the arm. "Point being, your partner is always going to get you going crazy. I haven't seen Bielle in ages, but I know the anticipation is going to get to me when she meets us there tonight."

"All done!" Mally says triumphantly. "Thank you, Tarrant, for nearly ruining it." She pats Alice on the back. "Go take a look at yourself, love."

Alice gets up, straightening her jacket and going over to the mirror. She and Mirana had decided on canary yellow for their central colour. It would certainly stand out amongst the traditional blue, purple, and red that most couples chose. Alice had never put on the full ensemble until now, and she nearly stumbles back when she gets a good look at herself.

For the most part, it is a conventional black suit, but the interior is where it deviates. She wears a canary yellow vest and matching tie, her silver caterpillar pin sitting comfortably on her lapel. Her eyes are dusted over with golden eyeshadow fading into a dusky brown, lined with a thin black wing. Her dress shoes are fitted with thick insoles, since, judging from both Christmas balls, she and Mirana would be dancing a lot.

Tarrant appears beside her in a suit he made himself, an all white set coloured with vibrant splashes of swirling colours, not unlike the pattern that had been on his shirt the day they first met. Alice can't help but smile. That day seems so long ago, and here they are, now best friends, practically brother and sister.

"Shall we?" he asks. "I've got a message saying we've got locations sorted."

Alice nods, and the four of them head out the door, coming out of the dorms to meet in front of the founder's statue. Everyone looks fantastic, but there's one person missing from the group.

Alice frowns. "Where's Mirana?"

Nivens approaches her. "She'll be out in a minute. She says she's got a surprise for you, and she's a little worried about it."

"THERE SHE IS!" Thackery bellows, coming to put an arm around Nivens.

Alice turns around with the rest of the group, and it's all she can do to keep her jaw from hitting the floor.

She comes out on Mason's arm, — who is wearing a pink tuxedo with black lapels and bowtie, his hair grown out considerably, no longer buried beneath a baseball cap — the canary yellow dress blooming about her like a lily, but she's seen the dress before.

No, what's different is her _hair_.

Alice nearly doesn't recognise her. Gone are the snowy white locks. Instead, warm, honey brown hair cascades around her face, her lips tinged pale pink rather than their usual dark cherry. She appears softer, brighter, absolutely radiant, despite the anxious expression on her face. Their eyes meet, and Alice barely registers Mally pushing her mouth closed. She smiles shyly at Alice, helping Alice remember how exactly her legs work long enough to reach her in a few strides.

"Well?" she asks breathlessly. "What do you think?"

"I— you— wow." Is what Alice manages to get out. She tries again. "Is this what you really want?" she asks tentatively. True, the clothes were a sign of progress, but changing such a huge part of her that had stayed the same for the longest time, all she can hope is that Mirana's really ready for this.

Mirana nods. "Yes. It's been a long time coming, and I think I've come far enough to really accept myself for who I am. No more hiding. This was just the last step."

Alice smiles, finding her words again. "I'm glad." She reaches out, runs her fingers through her girlfriend's hair. "I really do like this."

Mirana leans into her hand, taking it into her own. Seeing her like this, so blissfully happy, makes Alice feel as if there's nothing more important in the world right now. She leans in to kiss her, only to be interrupted by —

"Oi, if you two are finished, we've got to start taking photos now if we're going to make it on time!" Bayard yells, having gathered everyone else into suitable positions.

Oh, right. Prom is still a thing.

Mirana pulls her in close and leans down to whisper, "I promise we'll have plenty of time alone later."

Alice follows her considerably faster after that.

* * *

The venue is absolutely stunning. After somehow managing to find parking on the first level of the structure, they go inside The Manor Lodge.

Inside, it's massive. Flowing white silks hang from the ceiling paired with translucent balloons dusted inside with silver confetti, the place lit with a mixture of blue and purple lighting. Plenty of tables are scattered about, covered with cream coloured tablecloths and set with gold plateware and rim frosted glasses. A raised platform towards the back of the room serves as a stage where a live band plays. Against another wall is a massive buffet table filled with food, which is what most students are gathered around if they're not tearing up the dance floor. Thackery is already tugging Nivens towards the music, Nivens flushing furiously. Bayard quickly finds a pretty young woman in an elaborate violet gown that Alice can only assume is Bielle and becomes fairly occupied with that reunion. Mason finds Professor Flora and immediately dashes over to embrace her. Baxton follows Mally towards the dance floor with some gentle coaxing on her end. They are adorably sweet together, going as friends, and Mally has been a rather good help with getting him to adjust to being a part of a group again, but a group that actually values him as a person. Tarrant leads the rest of their group to a table to wait out the line at the buffet before they grab their own food.

Chess, who looks rather charming in a grey and powder blue suit, wearing the bowler hat Tarrant had made him, fidgets a bit in his seat considerably when they go to sit down. He keeps glancing over to the floor, then sneaking glances over to Tarrant when he thinks no one can see him doing that.

Alice grins. She knows that look. "Something on your mind, Chess?"

Everyone turns to look at him, and suddenly Chess becomes immensely interested in his napkin then, before finally pulling out his phone to speak.

"I want to dance." the robotic voice says. "With someone."

Alice nods. After everyone else has been playing matchmaker with her and Mirana, it's her turn to have a little fun, and if those looks have said anything, she knows exactly who to pair him with. "Tarrant, you should dance with him."

Chess's eyes grow large, and he sneaks another glance over at Tarrant, who pretends to ponder it for a moment, clearly enjoying toying with him a bit. "I don't know, Alice." He shifts in his seat to face Chess more fully. "How much of my dancing do you know?"

Chess excitedly taps out. "All of it!" The voice doesn't do the best job at conveying his excitement, but his face says it all. "If you dance with me, I'll never steal your hat again!"

Tarrant laughs. "Now that's an offer I can't refuse."

Chess eagerly jumps up, then, in a blink of an eye, swaps their hats and bounds off, Tarrant's hat now bouncing on top of his head while his own hat sits comically askew atop Tarrant's head. Instead of getting angry, Tarrant just snorts and races after him, adjusting the hat that can barely contain his wild hair.

Mirana giggles at the display. "Very nicely done." she says. "So subtle too."

Alice grins and slips her fingers through hers, intertwining them. "They just need a little push. Like us."

Mirana smiles warmly at her, and Alice finds herself melting once again. "I'm just happy that at the end of it all, I have you."

She leans over and presses a kiss to Alice's forehead. Alice reaches up and cups her cheek. "Lower." she insists.

"If the lady demands."

"She does."

Mirana leans down, putting her hand on the back of Alice's neck to pull her in, and kisses her. Soft lips, vanilla bean, no matter how many times they've kissed, Alice still gets that dizzying feeling, and she smiles into it, shifting herself closer. They break apart, resting their foreheads together, happy, content.

The song changes then, subtly at first, a low note, before some drums kick up.

 _Trippin' out_

 _Spinnin' around_

 _I'm underground, I fell down_

 _Yeah, I fell down_

Mirana's face lights up. "Oh, I love this song, we've got to dance to this!"

Alice glances over to the buffet table, where the line has gone down considerably. A lot of people like this song, apparently. "But the line just went down." she points out. Dancing is fun and all, but… food.

Mirana pouts. "Please? I promise we'll eat after."

Alice looks over at the dance floor, where everyone seems to be falling into a line dance that everyone seems to know. They look easy enough to follow. Will she still look silly? Yes.

"Promise?"

Mirana beams. "Yes! Come on!"

Alice smiles, shakes her head, letting herself be led out to the dance floor. They find a decent break in the line to join and start to follow along. Well, Alice flails vaguely, but Mirana looks so happy, like she's having so much fun, that she obliges her anyway. As she starts letting herself go, not really thinking about doing every move perfectly, she finds herself having fun too. She lets herself look around, taking everything in.

Prom. This night once felt a million years away, and now, by some miracle, they've all made it here, alive and happy in the moment. It doesn't seem so long ago that she was feeling hopeless, not knowing if she would be able to save Mirana, to finally put an end to all the suffering she'd only been a part of for a small bit of time in the grand scheme of things. It doesn't seem so long ago that she was watching Mirana from afar, wondering if she could ever love her, wondering if what she was feeling was love at all and not just infatuation. It doesn't seem so long ago that she was entering her dorm here at Underland Academy for the first time, unpacking, only to be interrupted by Chess running around her room, and then Tarrant barrelling through the door. It doesn't seem so long ago that she felt so alone, not knowing that there were people out there that would like her just as she is.

Now, she's part of a rather large friend group. She's got a best friend that is insanely talented with a needle, who would be there for her no matter what. She's got a girlfriend who loves her and makes her happier than anything else. Everything feels stable, everything feels so wonderfully right.

She's finally in her own wonderland.

At that thought, she lets go completely to the music, letting herself be free as the final verse plays out.

 _I, I'll get by_

 _I, I'll survive_

 _When the world's crashing down_

 _When I fall and hit the ground_

 _I will turn myself around_

 _Don't you try to stop me_

 _I, I won't cry_


	31. Afterword (Author's Note)

Hello everyone. This is not a chapter update, but a life update. Feel free to continue reading.

I want to thank everyone who took the time to read, follow, or favourite this story. _Purer than Snow_ had been an idea that'd been tossing around in my head for some time, so sitting down to finally write it was a long time coming. I appreciate all the love and support that this story has garnered, and I'm so happy to find that you love and care for these characters as much as I do. I had so much fun taking this narrative and placing it in a more modern setting, and discussing issues that are very close to my heart.

I also apologise for the gaps between updates. I used to keep up a monthly schedule, but given the intensity of the program I'm in, I had to put the story on hold several times due to my course workload as well as severe bouts of depression. I'm doing much better now, but it's been a pretty rough ride for me, which means I wasn't able to upload as often, and I cannot begin to thank you all enough for sticking with me to the end. Thank you so much.

That brings me to the next thing. The "end". The thing is, I don't know if this is really the end for Alice and Mirana and this particular AU. Don't worry, Bumby is NOT coming back. That bastard is locked up where he belongs, and, to quote Alice from _Madness Returns_ , "some half-wit bruiser will make [him] his sweetheart", I'm sure. I think there is potential for a sequel, but I'm not quite sure one is necessary, at least not now.

Whether or not I continue is ultimately up to me, but regardless, I thank you all once again for joining me on this adventure, for accepting new faces and embracing the old under a different lens.

Fairfarren,

ThirstyBoot


End file.
